THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

UCLA  ART  COUNCIL 

by 

Estate  of 
Anne  Hunter  Temple 


0  <- 

z  « 

u  •£ 

1  -i 

h  .- 

IE  £ 

i  , 


5 


AMERICAN  PAINTERS: 


WITH  EIGHTY-THREE  EXAMPLES    OF    THEIR   WORK 

ENGRAVED    ON    WO  OH. 


By     G.     W.     SHELDON 


NEW   YORK: 

D.     APPLETON      AND      COMPANY, 

549    &    5  5  1     BROADWAY. 

1879. 


COPTEIGHT   BY 

V.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 

1878. 


/ 


Art 
Library 


^3G 
PREFACE 


Although  tlie  list  of  American  painters  whose  pictures  are  here  en- 
graved is  by  no  means  an  exhaustive  one,  it  being  impracticable  in  a  single 
volume,  even  of  very  generous  dimensions,  to  give  translations  of  the  work 
of  every  artist  whose  brush  has  reflected  credit  upon  our  country,  the 
wood-engravings  in  this  series  have  not  been  surpassed  in  number  and 
excellence  by  any  similar  collection  illustrative  of  national  contempora- 
neous art.  These  engravings  are,  of  course,  the  principal  feature  of  the 
book.  Their  beauty  speaks  for  them,  and  for  the  painters  whom  they  rep- 
resent. In  the  text,  also,  many  of  the  painters  appear  in  their  own  behalf. 
Its  interest — so  far  as  it  has  interest — lies  in  its  autobiographies,  which  are 
as  many  and  as  comprehensive  as  the  circumstances  permitted.  An  Amer- 
ican painter  has  said  that  "  the  most  valuable  materials  for  art-criticism  are 
those  gathered  from  artists  themselves,  not  merely  from  their  works,  but 
from  the  verbal  expression  of  their  views ; "  and,  whether  or  not  his  remark 
is  true,  it  is  believed  that  the  artists'  views  on  art,  in  most  instances  ex- 
pressed publicly  for  the  first  time  in  this  volume,  will  be  read  with  pleas- 
ure even  by  persons  whose  own  opinions  are  widely  at  variance  with  some 
of  them.  It  should  be  added  that  a  part  of  the  article  on  George  Inness 
was  originally  contributed  by  the  writer  to  Harpeis  Magazine. 

G.  W.  S. 


PAINTERS  AND   ENGRAVINGS. 


PAGE 

Frederick  Edwin  Church       ........  10 

TJie  Parthenon.     {Frontispiece.) 
A  Tropical  Moonlight. 
Chimborazo. 

Sanford  R.  Gifford     ....  ....  14 

Venice. 

Sunset  in  the  Adirondacks. 

John  II.  Bristol  .........  20 

The  Adirondacks,  from  Lake  Paradox. 
Lake  George,  from  near  Sabbath-Day  Point. 

Peter  Moran     .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .23 

Twilight. 

The  Return  of  the  Herd. 

Winslow  Homer  .........  25 

Watermelon- Eaters. 
In  the  Fields. 

George  Inness  ..........  29 

Light   Triumphant. 

Pine  -  Grove,  Barberini  Villa,  Albano. 

Thomas  Hicks     ..........  35 

"No  Place  like  Some." 
Portrait  of  General  Meade. 

Mauritz  Frederick  Hendrick  De  Haas       ......  39 

The   Coast  of  France. 

Long  Island  Sound  by  Moonlight. 

Charles  Henry  Miller  ........  44 

Old  Mill  at  Springfield. 
Return  to  the  Fold. 


,3  PAIXTEES    AMD.    EXGRA  VINGS. 

PAGE 

James  McDottgall  Haet  ........  40 

.1  Summer  Day  on  the  Boquet  liioer. 
Catth  going  Home. 

Jertis   McEnteb  .........  01 

Autumn  Morning. 
The   Danger- Signal. 

Win  i am   II.  Beard         .........  50 

"  Lo,  the  Poor  Indian." 
'The  March  of  Silenus. 

William  T.   Richards   .........  60 

At  Atlantic  <  'ity. 
On  the   Wissahickon. 

Seymoue  Joseph  Gcy  ....  .....  05 

Tin   Orange-Girl. 

E.   Wood  Perry  .........  70 

Firesidi  Stories. 
The  Old  Story. 

Samuel  Colman  ,  i  .......  72 

.  \mh  rnach  <>u  the  Rhim  . 

A  Street- Scene  in  Caen,  Normandy. 

Benjamin  Cirtis  Porter  i  .......  70 

The  Hour-  Glass. 
The  Mandolin-Player. 

Akiui  II   QuARTLEY  .........  80 

Aii  .  \fti rnoon  in  August. 

Jasper  Francis  Cropsey  ........  82 

Tin    Old  Mill. 

William   Hart    ..........  84 

Tin   Path  !>;/  tin   River. 
Tin   Lus/  (i l,,i,n. 

William    Morris    Hint.  ...  ....  88 

Summi  r. 
Spring  Chickens. 

Robert  Swain   Giffobd  ...  ...  93 

On    lln     Xil,  . 

Tin   Till  ins  of  Biskra. 


PAINTERS    AND    ENGRAVINGS.  7 

PAGE 

Walter  Shirlaw  ........  96 

The  Toning  of  the  Bell. 
"  Good-Morning.'''' 

WORTIIINGTON    WllITTREDGE  ........  98 

A  Home  by  the  Sea-side. 

Study  of  the  Pocky  Mountain  Aspens, 

Daniel  Huntington      .  ........  100 

Sowing  the  Word. 

Ichabod  Crane  and  Katrina. 

Thomas  Waterman  Wood        ........  109 

The  Village  Post  -  Office. 

Lemuel  E.  Wilmarth   .  .  .  ...  .  .  .  .  110 

Ingratitude. 

George  Loring  Brown  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .111 

The  Lake  of  Nemi. 
The  Temple  of  Peace. 

James  II.  Beard  .  .......  113 

The  Mourners. 

J.  Appleton  Brown      .........  117 

The  Upper  Merrimac. 
Storm  at  the  Isles  of  Shoals. 

Francis  Hopkinson  Smith        ........  120 

A  Glimpse  of  Franconia  Notch,  New  Hampshire,, 

Thomas  Moran  ..........  122 

Dream-land.  • 

Solitude. 
Asiier  Brown  Durand  ........  128 

Brook,  and  Vista  in  the  Mountains. 

Horace  Wolcott  Robbins        .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .133 

Sunny  Banks  of  the  Ausahle. 

Morning. 
Joseph  Rusling  Meeker  ........  135 

The  Indian  Chief. 

Near  the  Atchafalaya. 

Benjamin  F.  Reinhart  ........  138 

Katrina  Van  Tassel. 


8  PAINTERS    AND    ENGRAVINGS. 

PAGE 

John  G.  Brown.  ......•••  141 

"  By  the  Sad  Sea  -  Waves." 

Alfred  Thompson  Bricher      ........  144 

Cliffs  of  Ironbound  Island,  Maine. 
The  MM-Stream. 

Albert  Bierstadt  .........  146 

JVear  the  Black  Mills. 

Mount  Corcoran,  Sierra  Nevada. 

Frederick  A.  Bridgman  .  .  ......  150 

Pyrenees  .Peasants  returning  from  the  Harvest-Field. 

John  W.  Casilear         .........  154 

Riverside. 

Moonlight  in  the  Glen. 

William  M.  Chase         .........  156 

The  Court-Jester. 

Albert  F.  Bellows       .........  158 

A  By-may  near  Torquay,  Devonshire. 
Devonshire  Cottages. 

Robert  W.  Weir  .........  160 

Columbus  before  the  Council  of  Salamanca. 

Alexander  H.  Wtant.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .164 

A  Mielsummi  r  A'*  treett. 
On  the  Ausable  Rivi ,-. 

Eastman  Johnson  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .166 

The  Emigrants*  Sunday  Morning. 

Wyatt  Eaton     ..........  169 

Harvesters  at  Rest. 

A.   I).  SiiMiccK.  .........  174 

By  the  Stream. 

John-  P.  Wi:iu    ..........  175 

Casting  the  Shaft. 

William  Page    ..........  177 

Far  my  nt  in  the  Shrouds  of  the  Hartford. 


Engravings  executed  principally  by  Messrs.  Linton,  Mouse,  IIahlkv,  Anthony,  Bobbett,  and  Filmer. 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


rriHE  Eliaus  built  a  studio  for  Phidias  in  the  court  of  the  temple  of  Jupi- 
-*-  ter,  and  all  Greece  worshiped  a  statue  chiseled  by  that  illustrious  man. 
Even  the  gods  were  connoisseurs  of  art ;  once,  in  answer  to  a  sculptor's  prayer 
for  a  token  of  approval,  they  flashed  lightning  from  a  clear  sky  across  his  feet. 
Will  those  good  old  times  ever  return  ?  Do  we  care  to  see  them  back  again  ? 
In  England,  not  long  ago,  the  very  words  "  Fine  Arts  "  are  said  to  have  called 
up  a  notion  of  frivolity,  of  great  pains  expended  upon  small  things — things 
that  gave  fops  an  opportunity  of  pluming  themselves  on  their  sagacity  and 
capacity  ;  while  in  America  the  Puritans  used  vehemently  to  exorcise  what  in 
their  eyes  were  not  the  Muses,  but  the  devils,  of  painting,  music,  and  archi- 
tecture. "  This  is  a  plaistered,  rotten  world,"  said  one  of  their  spokesmen  ; 
"  The  creation  is  now  an  old,  rotten  house,'1  exclaimed  another.  What  mock- 
ery, then,  to  address  one's  self  to  the  cultivation  of  the  beautiful !  what  folly 
to  embellish  an  existence  the  cherished  symbols  of  which  are  sackcloth  and 
ashes  !  Those  days,  of  course,  nobody  yearns  to  see  again,  nor  is  there  the 
faintest  prospect  that  they  will  return.  The  Anglo-Saxon  spirit,  at  least,  is 
neither  classic  nor  iconoclastic,  neither  Greek  nor  Puritan.  In  art-matters  it 
takes  a  middle  ground,  and  its  admonitions  are  those  of  Lessing  to  his  friend 
Mendelssohn  :  "  Only  a  part  of  our  lives  must  be  given  up  to  the  study  of  the 
beautiful ;  we  must  practise  ourselves  in  weightier  matters  before  we  die." 

Yet  how  wholesome  a  part  is  that  which  is  spent  in  the  service  of  art,  and 
how  great  are  the  obligations  of  civilization  to  art !     If,  as  some  one  has  said, 

2 


10  AMERICAN    PAIXTEES 

force  and  right  are  the  governors  of  the  world— force,  until  right  is  ready— how 
large  has  been  the  force  of  beauty  when  expressed  by  the  poet  and  the  paint- 
er !  With  each  new  epoch  of  development  come  fresh  revelations  of  it  in  man 
and  in  Nature — revelations  which  art  alone  is  competent  to  disclose,  and 
healthy  sensibilities  and  vigorous  intellects  alone  are  able  to  appreciate.  A 
thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever,  not  because  beauty  is  lovely  in  itself,  nor 
yet  because  it  educates  and  elevates  the  feelings,  but  because  it  is  simply  the 
splendor  of  the  true  ;  because,  in  the  words  of  Goethe,  it  is  a  manifestation  of 
the  secret  laws  of  Nature,  which,  but  for  this  manifestation,  had  been  forever 
concealed  from  us. 

The  fine  arts,  therefore,  concerned  solely  as  they  are  with  the  expression 
of  the  beautiful,  have  a  very  serious  reason  for  existence ;  and  painting,  which 
reveals  to  us  the  mysteries  and  potencies  of  color,  is,  next  to  poetry,  the 
noblest  of  them  all.  American  painters,  if  not  the  greatest  of  ancient  or 
modern  times,  have  wrought  for  themselves,  especially  in  the  domain  of 
landscape  art,  a  very  distinct  and  honorable  position  ;  and  at  the  present  day, 
when  the  influence  of  foreign  study  has  made  so  many  of  them  cosmopolitan 
in  their  views  and  resources,  a  peculiar  interest  attaches  to  their  aims,  their 
methods,  and  their  triumphs.  The  compass  of  this  brief  essay  necessarily 
excludes  the  mention  of  a  multitude  of  names  which  lend  lustre  to  the  history 
of  contemporaneous  art  on  the  western  side  of  the  Atlantic ;  and  the  few  which 
appear  in  these  pages  must  serve  as  representatives  of  the  rest. 


Perhaps  the  pleasantest  feature  of  the  recent  sale  of  Mr.  John  Taylor  John- 
ston's  collection  of  paintings  was  the  fact  that  in  competition  with  Meissonier, 
Turner,  Decamps,  Delacroix,  Delaroche,  Jules  Breton,  Gerorne,  Horace  Yernet, 
Diaz,  Corot,  Zaniacois,  Troy  on,  Vibert,  Ilamon,  Boldini,  Schreyer,  Fortuny, 
Daubigny,  and  a  score  of  other  foremost  modern  masters,  the  first  prize  was 
carried  off  by  an  American  artist.  The  largest  sum  bid  for  any  single  work 
was  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  for  Frederick  Edwin  Church's 
"Niagara  Falls,"  and  that,  too,  in  a  city  where  buyers  of  pictures  are  generally 
supposed  f<>  subscribe  to  a  creed  the  first  and  front  article  of  which  is,  "I 
believe  in  the  transcendent  excellence  <»f  Parisian  art."  Asked,  on  one  occasion, 


A    TROPICAL    MOONLIGHT. 
From  a  Painting  by  Frederick  Edwin  Church. 


p.  10. 


FREDERICK    EDWIN    CHURCH.  \\ 

what  were  his  methods  of  work,  and  his  views  of  the  nature  and  the  ends  of 
art,  Mr.  Church  replied  that  he  had  always  been  a  faithful  student  of  Nature, 
and  that  this  was  the  only  answer  he  could  give  to  such  questions.  So  far, 
indeed,  as  methods  of  work  were  concerned,  he  had  never  looked  upon  himself 
as  having  any ;  and  the  question  put  to  him  with  reference  to  them  had  sug- 
gested the  matter  to  him  for  the  first  time.  Mr.  Church's  pictures,  however, 
speak  for  him  more  satisfactorily  than  he  can  speak  for  himself.  In  the  first 
place,  they  tell  us  that,  like  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  he  sees  little  beauty  in  com- 
mon things,  and  depends  largely  upon  the  external  splendor  of  his  subject. 
His  instincts,  in  a  word,  are  tropical ;  and  in  the  gorgeousness  and  magnifi- 
cence of  the  tropics  he  has  found  the  themes  that  please  him  best.  Outside 
of  the  tropics,  his  subjects  are  still  gorgeous  and  magnificent — the  Falls  of 
Niagara,  with  rainbow  accompauimeut ;  the  iridescent  and  majestic  icebergs 
off  the  coast  of  Labrador ;  the  gloi'ious  Parthenon  in  a  blaze  of  light,  and  in 
an  atmosphere  unrivaled ;  the  city  of  Jerusalem  beneath  the  Syrian  skies. 
And,  even  when  in  the  tropics,  his  fondness  for  wealth  and  brilliancy  of  scene 
leads  him,  as  in  his  famous  picture  "  The  Heart  of  the  Andes,"  to  make 
artificial  combinations  of  the  mightiest  mountains,  the  most  picturesque  val- 
leys, the  richest  vegetation,  the  lordliest  trees,  the  most  sparkling  water,  the 
gaudiest  birds  and  flowers,  and  the  most  enchanting  perspectives ;  so  that  one 
is  reminded  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  saying  :  "  The  world  is  a  brazen  world,  the 
poets  alone  deliver  a  golden ;  nature  never  set  forth  the  earth  in  so  rich  a 
tapestry  as  divers  poets  have  done,  neither  with  so  pleasant  rivers,  fruitful 
trees,  sweet-smelling  flowers,  and  whatsoever  may  make  the  earth  more  love- 
ly." Where  landscapes  are  the  stateliest  and  the  most  radiant,  there  Mr. 
Church's  brush  is  eager  to  be  at  work ;  but  it  is  most  eager  when  the  artist 
has  selected  from  a  wide  range  of  objects,  fair,  bright,  and  grand,  those  which 
are  especially  fair,  bright,  and  grand,  and  made  of  them  a  single  compo- 
sition. 

A  student  of  Nature  Mr.  Church  is  undoubtedly  ;  he  is  also  an  indefati- 
gable student  of  the  resources  of  his  pencil  and  his  palette.  He  draws  with 
remarkable  accuracy,  and  has  mastered  not  a  few  of  the  harmonies  and  the 
glories  of  color.  Yet  he  has  been  trained  in  no  European  nor  American 
school.     Thomas  Cole,  the  father  of  American  art,  whose  name  is,  and  will 


12  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

be,  held  in  reverential  and  loving  remembrance,  taught  Church  the  fun- 
damental technics  of  his  art ;  and  the  pupil's  persevering  industry  and 
singleness  of  purpose  took  up  the  task  where  Cole  left  off.  It  is,  perhaps, 
worth  while  to  lay  special  stress  upon  this  matter  of  Church's  diligence 
in  study,  because  too  many  so-called  artists  are  very  lazy.  They  repeat  them- 
selves constantly  in  their  subjects  and  styles,  and  they  do  not  improve  in  the 
representation  of  textures,  in  subtilty  of  modeling,  in  general  quality  of  work. 
Thev  are  otiose  and  desultory ;  and  neither  their  insight  nor  their  execution 
advances  with  advancing  years. 

It  is  Mr.  Church's  perseverance,  seconded  by  his  love  for  subjects  of  novel 
and  striking  interest,  that  has  led  him  to  make  travels  as  varied,  if  not  so 
uncomfortable,  as  those  of  the  companions  of  ^Eneas.  The  region  of  the  Cats- 
kills,  fascinating  as  it  is  to  him  and  to  most  American  painters — to  Durand, 
for  example,  to  Sanford  GifTord,  to  McEntee,  and  to  Kensett — did  not  long 
detain  him.  Nor  was  there  anything  in  the  pleasant  city  or  neighborhood  of 
Hartford,  Connecticut,  where,  in  1826,  he  was  born,  to  keep  him  after  he  was 
aide  to  get  away.  It  may  be  doubted,  indeed,  whether  even  the  easily-acces- 
sible attractions  of  the  Catskills  Avould  have  drawn  him,  had  not  Cole  lived 
there.  When  Cole  died,  Church  began  Ins  peregrinations.  He  traveled  over 
New  England,  making  a  multitude  of  studies  of  hills  and  valleys,  of  rocks  and 
trees.  In  1849,  having  opened  a  studio  in  New  York,  he  was  elected  a  mem- 
ber of  the  National  Academy  of  Design,  in  his  twenty-third  year.  One  of  his 
!ir-t  principal  works  was  a  view  of  "East  Rock,"  near  New  Haven,  which  was 
considered  a  picture  of  unusual  promise.  This  was  followed  by  a  series  of 
landscapes,  in  which  he  used  the  studies  obtained  during  his  wanderings  in 
the  Catskills  and  in  New  England. 

Four  yeai-s  after  his  election  to  the  Academy,  Church  made  his  first  trip  to 
South  America,  and,  when  he  returned,  his  painting  entitled  "  The  Great 
Mountain-Chain  of  New  Granada,"  together  with  other  works  founded  upon 
studies  made  in  that  continent,  met  with  immediate  success.  People  did  not 
lh'  ii  know  much  abouf  the  land  of  the  Amazon  and  the  Andes,  and  Church 
succeeded  in  greatly  interesting  them  in  it,  showing  them  the  most  surprising 
features  of  a  very  wonderful  region.  The  reception  accorded  to  his  pictures 
naturally  stimulated   him  to  other  ventures  in  the  same  line  of  business,  and 


o 


s 

> 

•*} 

(1 

N 

< 

IS 

■#1 

o 

,*" 

01 

k, 

2 

•« 

X 

0 

ft, 


>*; 


FREDERICK    E  DW  I  X     CHURCH.  13 

four  years  after  his  first  excursion  he  made  a  second  one.  It  was  in  1857  that 
he  again  set  sail  for  South  America.  This  time  he  staid  longer  and  pene- 
trated farther — obtaining,  doubtless,  material  sufficient  for  a  lifetime  of  pict- 
ure-painting ;  a  recent  work,  exhibited  at  the  Century  Club  in  New  York, 
and  now  in  the  gallery  of  Mr.  William  E.  Dodge,  Jr.,  being  an  elaboration 
and  arrangement  of  all  sorts  of  South  American  studies.  We  may  expect 
to  see  a  good  many  similar  productions  from  the  same  brush,  if  the  health 
of  the  man  who  holds  it  permits.  Mr.  Church's  right  arm,  as  is  well 
known,  has  been  partly  disabled  for  several  years.  May  it  speedily  resume 
its  cunniug ! 

The  immediate  trophies  of  this  second  trip  to  the  tropics  were,  "  The  Heart 
of  the  Andes,"  "  Cotopaxi,"  "  The  Eainy  Season  in  the  Tropics,"  "  A  Tropical 
Moonlight,"  and  "  Chimborazo,"  the  last  two  being  eugraved  for  this  narrative. 
They  are  all  well  known,  exceedingly  popular,  and  entirely  representative  of 
the  artist's  best  powers.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  stop  here  and  explain 
what  their  principal  defect  is,  because,  by  this  time,  that  defect  must  have 
been  recognized  by  almost  every  intelligent  American  lover  of  art.  It  consists 
in  the  elaboration  of  details  at  the  expense  of  the  unity  and  force  of  sentiment. 
Some  of  Church's  pictures,  if  reduced,  would  make  capital  illustrations  for 
Humboldt's  "  Cosmos,"  or  any  similar  text-book  of  natural  science — for  Agas- 
siz's  works  on  Brazil,  for  instance.  They  are  faithful  and  beautiful,  but  they 
are  not  so  rich  as  they  might  be  in  the  poetry,  the  aroma,  of  art.  The  higher 
aud  spiritual  verities  of  Nature  are  the  true  home  of  landscape  art.  The 
heart  of  the  Andes,  as  the  natural  philosopher  sees  it,  is  one  thing ;  but  the 
poet  gets  near  enough  to  hear  it  beat. 

Not  long  after  Mr.  Church's  return  from  his  second  visit  to  South  America, 
he  painted  his  famous  "  Niagara  Falls,"  now  in  the  Corcoran  Gallery  at 
Washington.  It  is  widely  known  through  the  engraving.  In  a  few  years 
he  went  to  Labrador,  and  painted  his  "  Icebergs,"  which  was  exhibited  in 
London  in  1863.  and  received  with  great  favor.  In  1866  he  sailed  for  the 
West  Indies,  and  familiarized  himself  with  their  local  traits.  His  large 
picture  "  Jamaica "  is  now  owned  by  Mrs.  Colt,  of  Hartford,  Connecticut. 
Again  he  left  America,  this  time  for  Europe  and  Asia.  At  Athens  he  made 
studies  for  his  "  Parthenon,"  which  we  have  engraved,  and  which  is  in  the 


14 


AMERICA::    PAIXTERS. 


possession  of  Mr.  Morris  K.  Jesup,  of  New  York.  At  Damascus  he  turned 
especial  attention  to  "  El-Chasne,"  the  rock-temple  of  Arabia  Petrsea.  Near 
Jerusalem  he  painted  a  view  of  the  ancient  capital  of  Judea. 

Mr.  Church's  latest  work,  "  The  iEgean  Sea,"  which  as  we  write  is  on  exhi- 
bition at  the  Goupil  Gallery  in  New  York,  is  a  picture  so  excellent  in  han- 
dling and  so  rich  in  sentiment  that  no  notice  of  the  artist  would  approach  com- 
pleteness which  did  not  take  cognizance  of  this  more  than  fulfillment  of  the 
promise  of  his  earlier  years.  Its  composition  is  ideal.  In  the  centre  of  the  sea 
is  an  Acropolis  like  that  of  Athens ;  on  the  right  coast,  a  Turkish  city,  with 
its  domes  and  minarets ;  on  the  left,  a  precipitous  and  rocky  mountain-side,  in 
which  are  the  open  gates  of  a  tomb ;  while  in  the  foreground  are  grassy  slopes 
and  several  fallen  columns.  The  atmosphere  is  delicately  veiled  and  vapor- 
laden,  full  of  silvery  tones  and  of  sunlight  that  tinges  with  its  reflections  the 
dimpled  but  waveless  sea,  the  rich  verdure,  and  the  lofty  buildings.  Two 
rainbows  in  the  middle  distance  radiate  the  powerful  but  subdued  brilliancy 
of  their  hues,  setting  off  to  advantage  the  warm  grayish-white  of  the  cumuli- 
clouds.  The  impression  of  the  scene  is  complex  yet  single,  full  of  sweetness, 
and  mournful  tenderness.  We  see  Greece  in  her  degradation,  and  we  think  of 
Greece  in  her  glory,  while  the  light  that  shines  across  the  entrance  to  the  sep- 
ulchre, hewed  out  of  the  rock,  concentrates  and  emphasizes  the  sentiment.  Here 
is  poetry  of  a  fine  sort — the  poetry  that  comes  of  technical  excellence  and  noble 
thought,  when  these  are  in  the  service  of  the  imagination.  In  no  other  work 
that  we  remember  has  Mr.  Church  given  evidence  of  so  much  more  than  mere 
skill  and  patience  ;  and  for  this  reason  it  is  that  any  just  estimate  of  his  posi- 
tion as  a  painter  must  take  into  consideration  the  surpassing  merits  of  "  The 
vEgean  Sea." 


Like  Mr.  Church  in  his  fondness  for  travel,  Mr.  Sanford  R.  Gifford  has 
visited  the  Catskills,  the  White  Mountains,  the  Adiroudacks,  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains,  the  Alps,  the  Rhine,  the  Nile,  the  Mediterranean,  Germany,  Switzerland, 
Egypt,  and  Italy.  He  was  born  in  Greenfield,  Saratoga  County,  New  York, 
in  1823.  His  boyhood  was  spent  at  Hudson,  in  the  same  State.  Like  Mr. 
Church,  also,  he  was  greatly  influenced  by  the  landscapes  of  Thomas  Cole. 


ill 


& 

o 

*> 

-^ 

III 

0 

z 
w 

•§> 

> 

t/> 

SANFORD    R.     OIFFORD.  15 

His  principal  teacher  in  the  technics  of  painting  was  the  late  John  R. 
Smith,  of  New  York  City.  In  1854  he  became  a  member  of  the  National 
Academy  of  Design.  He  was  a  soldier  in  the  War  for  the  Union  ;  and  one 
of  his  best  pictures,  "  The  Camp  of  the  Seventh  Regiment,"  was  sketched 
while  he  was  with  that  famous  organization  of  volunteers.  To  one  who 
knows  him  well,  his  success  seems  natural  enough.  In  his  opinion,  an  artist- 
is  simply  a  poet.  Both  work  from  the  same  principles  and  aim  at  the  same 
result,  namely,  to  reproduce  the  impressions  which  they  have  received  from 
beautiful  things  in  Nature — the  poet  reproducing  them  when  they  can  be 
reproduced  by  words ;  the  painter,  when  they  are  so  subtile  as  to  elude  the 
grasp  of  words. 

Take,  for  instance,  the  impression  made  upon  one  by  an  Indian-summer 
afternoon,  when  not  only  the  foliage  but  the  very  atmosphere  itself,  owing  to 
its  density,  is  suffused  with  color,  so  that  the  natural  color  of  the  leaves  is 
heightened  by  the  colored  light  upon  and  through  and  around  them.  Every- 
body feels  the  influence  and  responds  to  the  charm  of  such  a  day.  But  who 
shall  so  describe  the  scene  that  the  impression  of  it  shall  be  reproduced  by 
words  ?  One  might  as  well  try  to  describe  all  the  colors  of  the  sunset.  The 
artist  alone  has  the  means  whereby  we  shall  be  made  to  feel  just  as  he  felt 
when  he  saw  the  scene,  and  just  as  we  ourselves  should  have  felt  had  we  seen 
it.  Nay,  more :  by  the  secrets  of  his  art,  he  can  even  emphasize  the  impres- 
sion which  the  natural  scene  would  have  made  upon  us.  He  can  direct  our 
attention  to  its  salient  features,  can  remove  from  our  attention  unimportant 
features,  can  make  new  and  finer  combinations  than  Nature  herself  ever  made, 
and  can  so  arrange  matters  that  our  imaginations  shall  be  more  easily  stimu- 
lated. In  one  sense,  therefore,  he  can  really  improve  upon  Nature.  Accord- 
ingly, when  Mr.  Gifford  finds  himself  particularly  impressed  by  any  natural 
scene,  and  determined  to  make  a  picture,  the  first  question  that  arises  is, 
"  What  causes  all  this  beauty  \ "  (for,  if  there  is  not  beauty  in  it,  he  does  not 
wish  to  paint  it).  The  grand  distinction  between  an  artist  and  another  person 
of  equal  sensibility  to  natural  beauty  who  is  not  an  artist  is,  that  the  former 
can  penetrate  into  the  causes  of  that  beauty,  and  can  make  use  of  those  causes, 
while  the  latter  cannot  do  either.  With  Mr.  Gifford  landscape-painting  is  air- 
painting  ;  and  his  endeavor  is  to  imitate  the  color  of  the  air,  to  use  the  oppo- 


16  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

-it ions  of  light  and  dark  and  color  that  he  sees  before  him.  If  the  forms  are 
represented  as  they  are  in  Nature  under  atmospheric  conditions  of  light,  dark, 
and  color,  these  forms  will  look  as  they  look  in  Nature,  and  will  produce  the 
same  effect.  Thus  much,  perhaps,  Mr.  Gifford  believes  in  common  with  every 
educated  artist.  But  every  artist  has  his  own  particular  method  of  work,  and, 
in  the  case  of  a  successful  artist,  this  particular  method  is  always  an  inter- 
esting thing  to  know.  Mr.  Grifford's  method  is  this :  When  he  sees  anything 
which  vividly  impresses  him,  and  which  therefore  he  wishes  to  reproduce,  he 
makes  a  little  sketch  of  it  in  pencil  on  a  card  about  as  large  as  an  ordinary 
visiting-card.  It  takes  him,  say,  half  a  minute  to  make  it ;  but  there  is  the 
idea  of  the  future  picture  fixed  as  firmly  if  not  as  fully  as  in  the  completed 
work  itself.  While  traveling,  he  can  in  this  way  lay  up  a  good  stock  of  mate- 
rial for  future  use.  The  next  step  is  to  make  a  larger  sketch,  this  time  in  oil, 
where  what  has  already  been  done  in  black-and-white  is  repeated  in  color.  To 
this  sketch,  which  is  about  twelve  inches  by  eight,  he  devotes  an  hour  or  two. 
It  serves  the  purpose  of  defining  to  him  just  what  he  wants  to  do,  and  of  fixing 
it  in  enduring  material.  Sometimes  the  sketch  is  not  successful,  and  is  thrown 
aside  to  make  room  for  another.  It  helps  him,  also,  to  decide  what  he  does 
not  want  to  do.  He  experiments  with  it ;  puts  in  or  leaves  out,  according  as 
he  finds  that  he  can  increase  or  perfect  his  idea.  When  satisfactorily  finished, 
it  is  a  model  in  miniature  of  what  he  proposes  to  do. 

He  is  now  ready  to  paint  the  picture  itself.  All  that  he  asks  for  is  a  favor- 
able day  on  which  to  begin.  To  Mr.  Gifford,  this  first  day  is  the  great  day. 
He  waits  for  it ;  he  prepares  for  it.  He  wishes  to  be  in  the  best  possible  phys- 
ical condition.  He  is  careful  about  his  food ;  he  is  careful  to  husband  his 
resources.  When  the  day  comes,  he  begins  work  just  after  sunrise,  and  con- 
tinues  until  just  before  sunset.  Ten,  eleven,  twelve,  consecutive  hours, 
according  to  the  season  of  the  year,  are  occupied  in  the  first  great  effort  to  put 
the  scene  on  the  cam-as.  He  feels  fresh  and  eager.  His  studio-door  is  locked. 
Nothing  is  allowed  to  interrupt  him.  His  luncheon,  taken  in  his  studio,  con- 
sists of  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  piece  of  bread.  His  inspiration  is  at  fever-heat ; 
every  faculty  is  stretched  to  its  utmost;  his  brush  moves  rapidly,  almost  care- 
lessly. 11«-  (\<>r<  not  stop  to  criticise  his  work.  The  divine  afflatus  is  within 
him,  and   he  does  un<iucstioningly  whatever  it    tells  him  to  do,  while  his  pig- 


SUNSET      IN      THE      ADIRONDACK  S. 

From  a  Painting  by  Sanford  R.  Gifford. 


p.  17. 


SANFORD    R.     GIFFORD. 


17 


ments  are  wet  arid  in  movable  condition.  No  day  is  ever  long  enough  for  this 
first  day's  work;  and  very  often,  at  the  end  of  it,  the  picture  looks  finished, 
even  to  the  eye  of  an  artist.  First  of  all,  on  this  first  day,  he  removes  the 
glaring  white  of  his  canvas  by  staining  it  with  a  solution  of  turpentine  and 
burnt  sienna ;  the  reason  being  that  a  surface  of  pure  white  causes  the  colors 
laid  upon  it  to  look  more  brilliant  than  they  will  when  the  canvas  is  entirely 
covered  with  pigments.  Then  he  takes  a  white-chalk  crayon  and  makes  a  draw- 
ing of  the  picture  he  expects  to  paint.  After  that  is  done,  he  sets  his  palette, 
placing  small  quantities  of  white,  cadmium,  vermilion,  madder-lake,  raw  sien- 
na, burnt  sienna,  Caledonia  brown,  and  permanent  blue,  one  after  another  along 
the  upper  rim,  in  the  order  just  enumerated.  These  are  all  the  manufactured 
pigments  that  he  uses;  they  consist  of  the  fundamental  red,  yellow,  and  brown, 
with  their  lights  and  darks.  Just  below  this  row  of  pigments  he  puts  another 
row,  consisting  of  three  or  four  tints  of  mixed  white  and  cadmium,  three  or 
four  tints  of  orange  (obtained  by  mixing  the  former  tints  Avith  red),  and  three 
or  four  tints  of  green  (if  foliage  is  to  be  painted).  Along  the  lower  rim  of 
the  palette  he  arranges,  one  after  another,  several  tints  of  blue.  The  palette 
is  then  ready.  The  workshop — the  battle-ground,  if  we  please — is  in  the  cen- 
tre, between  these  tints  of  blue  and  the  tints  of  orange.  Here  are  created  all 
the  thousand  special  tints  soon  to  be  seen  in  the  picture. 

The  first  thing  that  Mr.  Gilford  paints,  when  producing  a  landscape,  is  the 
horizon  of  the  sky  ;  and  his  reason  for  doing  so  is,  that  in  landscape-painting 
the  color  of  the  sky  is  the  key-note  of  the  picture — that  is  to  say,  it  governs 
the  impression,  determining  whether  the  impression  shall  be  gay  or  grave, 
lively  or  severe ;  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  landscape-painting  may  be  called 
(what  we  have  already  said  Mr.  Giftbrd  calls  it)  air-painting.  Different  condi- 
tions of  the  air  produce  different  impressions  upon  the  mind,  making  us  feel 
sad,  or  glad,  or  awed,  or  what  not.  Hence  the  condition — that  is,  the  color — 
of  the  air  is  the  one  essential  thing  to  be  attended  to  in  landscape-painting. 
If  the  painter  misses  that,  he  misses  everything.  Now,  the  color  of  the  sky 
at  the  horizon  is  the  key-note  of  the  color  of  the  air.  Mr.  Gifford,  therefore, 
begins  with  the  horizon.  When  the  long  day  is  finished,  and  the  picture  is 
produced,  the  work  of  criticism,  of  correction,  of  completion,  is  in  place.  Mr. 
Gifford  does  this  work  slowly.     He  likes  to  keep  his  picture  in  his  studio  as 


4 


18 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


lono-  as  possible.  He  believes  in  the  Horatian  maxim  of  the  seven  years'  fix- 
ing of  a  poem.  Sometimes  he  does  not  touch  the  canvas  for  months  after  liis 
first  criticisms  have  been  executed.  Then,  suddenly,  he  sees  something  that 
will  help  it  along.  I  remember  hearing  him  say  one  day,  in  his  studio :  "  I 
thought  that  picture  was  done  half  a  dozen  times.  It  certainly  might  have 
been  called  finished  six  months  ago.  I  was  working  at  it  all  day  yesterday." 
But  one  limitation  should  be  noted  here.  Mr.  GKfford  does  not  experiment 
with  his  paintings.  He  does  not  make  a  change  in  one  of  them  uidess  he 
knows  precisely  what  he  wishes  to  do.  He  does  not  put  in  a  cow,  a  tree,  a 
figure,  and  then  take  it  out  again.  I  once  heard  a  landscape-painter  laughingly 
remark :  "  Do  you  see  the  grass  in  that  picture  ?  I  have  buried  twelve  cows 
there  !  "  But  the  turf  was  as  smiling  as  ever.  When  Mr.  Giftbrd  is  done,  he 
stops.  And  he  knows  when  he  is  done.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  he  would 
rather  take  the  risk  of  destroying  a  picture  than  to  feel  the  slightest  doubt 
respecting  any  part  of  it.  The  moment  of  his  keenest  pleasure  is  not  when 
his  work  is  satisfactorily  completed,  but  when,  long  beforehand,  he  feels  that 
he  is  going  to  be  successful  with  it. 

Mr.  Gifford  varnishes  the  finished  picture  so  many  times  with  boiled  oil, 
or  some  other  semi-transparent  or  translucent  substance,  that  a  veil  is  made 
between  the  canvas  and  the  spectator's  eye — a  veil  which  corresponds  to  the 
natural  veil  of  the  atmosphere.  The  farther  off  an  object  is  in  Nature  the 
denser  is  the  veil  through  which  we  see  it ;  so  that  the  object  itself  is  of  sec- 
ondary importance.  The  really  important  thing  is  the  veil  or  medium  through 
which  we  see  it.  And  this  veil  is  different  at  different  times.  One  day  we  go 
out  in  the  morning,  and,  looking  up  and  down  the  street,  take  no  note  of 
the  sight.  We  are  not  impressed.  Another  day  there  is  a  slight  change  in 
the  density  or  the  clarity  of  the  atmosphere,  and  lo  !  what  before  was  a 
commonplace  view  has  become  exquisitely  beautiful.  It  was  the  change 
in  the  air  that  made  the  change  in  the  object;  and  especially  when  fin- 
ishing  his  picture  does  the  artist  bear  in  mind  this  fact.  Moreover,  as  the 
spectator  looks  through  this  veil  of  varnish,  the  light  is  reflected  and  refracted 
just  as  it  is  through  the  atmosphere — reflections  and  refractions  which, 
though  unseen,  are  nevertheless  felt.  The  surface  of  the  picture,  therefore, 
ceases  fco  lie  opaque;  it  becomes  transparent,  and  we  look  through  it  upon 


w 


2    ^ 


■CI 

I 


SANFORD    R.     GIFFORD. 


19 


and  into  the  scene  beyond.  In  a  word,  the  process  of  the  artist  is  the  pro- 
cess of  Nature. 

Mr.  Grifford's  industry  often  leads  him  to  make  a  dozen  sketches  of  the  same 
scene.  The  first  sketch,  indeed,  contains  the  essence,  but  day  after  day  he  vis- 
its the  place,  corrects  the  first  sketch,  qualifies  it,  establishes  the  relations  of 
one  part  to  another,  and  fixes  the  varied  gradations  of  color.  His  portfolios 
are  heavy  with  studies  of  rocks,  of  trees,  of  fallen  leaves,  of  streams,  of  ocean- 
waves.  Some  painters  think  that,  if  they  reproduce  such  objects  exactly,  they 
lose  some  of  the  poetry  of  natural  facts.  Mr.  Gifford  does  not  think  so.  He 
believes  in  Nature,  and  is  not  ashamed  laboriously  to  imitate  her.  An  artist 
like  Corot  offends  him  by  slovenliness.  To  him  one  of  Corot's  finished  land- 
scapes is  scarcely  more  than  a  sketch.  He  gets  from  it  nothing  more  than  he 
would  get  from  a  drawing.  "  The  best  thing  by  Corot  that  I  ever  saw,"  said 
Mr.  Gifford  one  day,  "  was  a  lithograph  after  one  of  his  pictures."  On  the 
other  hand,  every  critic  knows  that  Mr.  Gifford  does  not  elaborate  unneces- 
sarily, or  so  as  to  draw  attention  to  the  mechanism  of  the  work,  simply  as 
mechanism.  That  were  a  fault  almost  as  bad  as  the  worst.  Nor  is  Mr.  Gif- 
ford disposed  wantonly  to  sport  with  color,  to  show  it  off  merely  as  color  and 
nothing  else. 

Some  of  Mr.  Gifford's  best-known  pictures  are  "  Home  in  the  Wilderness," 
painted  in  1856,  and  owned  by  Mr.  J.  M.  Hartshorne  ;  "  Hunter  Mountain, 
Twilight,"  also  painted  in  1856,  and  owned  by  Mr.  J.  W.  Pinchot ;  "  Kauter- 
skill  Cove,  Twilight,"  painted  in  1861,  and  owned  by  ex-Mayor  Brown,  of 
Portland,  Maine;  "Twilight  in  the  Adirondacks,"  1864,  owned  by  Mr.  C.  H. 
Ludingdon ;  "Palanza,  Lake  Maggiore,"  1869,  owned  by  Mr.  John  H.  Caswell; 
"  Fishing-Boats  of  the  Adriatic,"  1870,  owned  by  Mr.  Charles  Stuart  Smith  ; 
"  Tivoli,"  1870,  owned  by  Mr.  Kobert  Gordon  ;  "  Santa  Maria  della  Salute," 
1871,  owned  by  Mrs.  Salisbury;  "Monte  Ferro,  Lake  Maggiore,"  1871,  owned 
by  Mr.  J.  B.  Colgate;  "Golden  Horn,"  1873,  owned  by  Mr.  W.  I.  Peake; 
"  Venetian  Sails,"  1873,  owned  by  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor ;  and  "  Brindisi," 
1875,  formerly  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  John  Taylor  Johnston.  Mr.  J.  H.  Sher- 
wood bought  his  "  Column  of  St.  Mark ; "  Mr.  Robert  Hoe,  his  "  Sunrise  on 
the  Sea-shore  ; "  Mr.  E.  F.  Hall,  his  "  Schloss  Rheinstein  ;  "  Mr.  Joseph  Harri- 
son, his  "  Mansfield  Mountain  ;  "  and  Mr.  J.  M.  Fiske,  his  "  Shrewsbury  River, 


o  q  A  M  E  R  I  G  A  N    P  A  I N  T  E  /,'  8 . 

Sandy  Hook."  The  two  works  which  we  have  engraved  are  in  his  best  style, 
displaying  the  fineness  of  his  handling,  and  the  refinement  of  his  feeling  for 
beauty.  Perhaps  no  painter  in  this  country  has  achieved  a  better  mastery  of 
the  light-giving  properties  of  the  sky. 


If  America  has  another  landscape-painter  more  truly  a  son  of  the  soil  than 
is  Mr.  Joiix  B.  Bristol,  we  do  not  know  where  to  lay  hands  upon  him.  His 
native  place  is  Hillsdale,  Columbia  County,  New  York,  and  his  birthday 
March  14,  1826.  Not  far  distant  from  tbis  pleasant  village  is  the  city  of  Hud- 
son, where  lived,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  inhabitants  reigned,  Henry  Ary,  a 
portrait-painter,  who  had  garnered  a  very  considerable  amount  of  local  fame. 
As  Bristol  grew  up,  he  became  accpiainted  with  the  artist,  rarely  missing  the 
opportunity  of  calling  upon  him  when  in  town,  and  rarely  returning  to  his 
father's  farmhouse  without  a  fresh  stock  of  art-ideas,  and  a  strong  determina- 
tion to  put  them  in  practice.  At  length  lie  spent  a  whole  winter  with  Ary, 
and  was  graduated  a  professional  portrait-painter.  Too  many  persons,  however, 
had  to  be  consulted  and  pleased  in  the  making  of  a  portrait,  and  Bristol  got 
discouraged,  and,  in  time,  disgusted.  He  went  to  the  mountains,  the  lakes,  the 
meadows,  and  the  forests,  and  has  continued  to  go  there  ever  since.  First, 
Llewellyn  Park,  in  New  Jersey,  attracted  him.  Mr.  Jacob  B.  Murray,  of 
Brooklyn,  owns  a  picture  of  a  view  in  and  from  that  pleasant  suburban  re- 
treat. Next,  the  scenery  of  St.  John's  River  and  St.  Augustine,  in  Florida, 
took  hold  of  him.  Mr.  Cyrus  Butler  and  Mr.  William  E.  Dodge,  Jr.,  of  New 
York,  have  reproductions  of  semi-tropical  surroundings  of  those  places.  Berk- 
shire County,  Massachusetts,  especially  in  its  pastoral  aspects,  then  received 
his  attention — his  "Mount  Everett,"  now  in  the  possession  of  a  resident  of 
Utica,  New  York,  and  his  "View  of  Monument  Mountain,  near  Great  Barring- 
ton,"  owned  by  a  resident  of  Riverdale,  New  York,  being  among  his  princi- 
pal transcriptions  in  that  region.  Finally,  he  turned,  whither  most  Americans 
love  to  turn,  toward  the  White  Mountains  and  Lake  George;  and  his  ripest 
and  truesl  endeavors  have  concerned  themselves  with  the  loveliness  and  the 
majesty  then;  gathered.  His  "Mount  Equinox,  Vermont,"  for  example,  in 
the  National    Academy    Exhibition  of  1877,  now  owned  by  Mr.  McCoy,  of 


1 


Mill 

h 

■jJH 

g 

0 

cu 

SiBi^J       !V 

NmMIMmVW' 

^ 

RHMffiB 

<< 

■^PiIlffldruBUll'l 

Q 

PWttBr 

X 

h 

BBBIm-  laStt 

< 

CO 

CD 

< 

(/) 

. 

. 

e 

<< 

W^-  \\  J, Wmmt 

w 

WfS 

% 

2 

i       :  " !         1 1 

0 

I'l     f'l   jj| 

K 

w  i 

h 

rtWiif'tJ   J 

w" 

fiW«''  :-, 

0 

i       'iih   i 

a 

i  '       ' ' 

0 

ii,,;**' ,'i'  f 

w 

!          I'll 

0 

" 

w 

1 

M 

<j 

I-    ■  I  M 1 

J 

$ 


lllllIlilllllilBIIII  liliillllilli  li;il|,||i;!ii:ffl'iii|!|iij|i:iiiil!.!i,i!i!,.!il;!;i:     ''' '  ■  ■« 


hi  ,;iLiiii;i:  . :  i .  ■  "■  il..-:.!-  ,i 


JOHN    B.     BRISTOL. 


21 


Baltimore,  is  perhaps  the  best  word  he  has  spoken  on  the  subject  of  land- 
scape-art. 

Bristol's  pictures  are  the  outgrowth  of  a  desire  to  express  the  sentiment  of 
Nature  as  he  feels  it;  and  this  sentiment,  in  his  case,  is  always  refined  and 
pleasing.  He  shows  us  scenes  of  peaceful  beauty.  Independent  of  their  exe- 
cution, his  subjects  are  always  interesting — often  of  commanding  interest. 
Not  depending  for  success  upon  the  technics  of  his  art,  he  asks  of  the  specta- 
tor no  special  artistic  training  as  a  prerequisite  to  appreciation.  He  would  be 
the  last  man  in  the  world  to  try  to  invest  with  charm  a  clump  of  decayed 
trunks,  a  skyless  forest-interior,  or  a  bit  of  bare  heath  traversed  by  ruts  and 
bordered  by  straggling  trees.  Picturesqueness — that  is  his  first  criterion  for  a 
subject ;  an  unpicturesque  subject,  indeed,  would  not  make  an  impression  upon 
him.  He  does  not  handle  common,  every-day  themes,  nor  themes  destitute  of 
what  is  called  the  human  element.  Every  one  of  his  landscapes  contains  a 
house,  a  fence,  a  figure,  a  road,  a  clearing,  something  besides  trees,  and  skies, 
and  mountains — something  that  man  has  made,  and  that  man  will  recognize  as 
such.     Mr.  Bristol's  views  of  art  wear  a  homely,  honest,  old-fashioned  air. 

Here,  for  instance,  are  the  two  pictures  of  his  which  we  have  engraved — 
"  The  Adirondacks,  from  Lake  Paradox,"  a  hazy,  midsummer,  early  evening 
effect,  a  lake  imbosomed  in  hills  beneath  a  cloudless  sky,  the  foreground  only  in 
local  color,  the  atmosphere  beyond  gradually  growing  into  the  horizon-tints, 
and  blending  with  them;  and  "Lake  George,  from  near  Sabbath-Day  Point,"  a 
similar  mid-afternoon  effect,  the  sun  on  the  right,  out  of  sight,  blazing  athwart 
the  cloud-masses,  glistening  on  the  surface  of  the  rippled  water,  and  leaving  in 
sombre  shadow,  save  on  a  few  edges  or  ledges,  the  mighty  and  majestic  moun- 
tain. No  lack  of  picturesqueness  in  these  landscapes,  surely  ;  while  in  one  of 
them  is  the  clearing  and  in  the  other  of  them  the  sail-boat,  to  humanize  the 
scene.  Whether  or  not  this  is  the  subtil  est  or  richest  sort  of  landscape-art 
we  are  not  now  considering.  We  are  looking  at  the  matter  from  Mr.  Bristol's 
point  of  view,  and  the  oftener  we  do  so,  divesting  our  minds  of  every  achieve- 
ment, say  of  the  modern  French  landscape-painters,  the  more  easily  are  we 
forced  to  confess  that  such  pictures  deserve  a  local  habitation  and  a  name ;  for 
they  touch  and  cheer  the  hearts  of  men  whom  the  modern  French  painters  can- 
not reach.     "  You  see  Nature  as  I  see  her,"  said  a  spectator  to  Mr.  Bristol  one 


.,.,  ,1  MEB  I  GA  X    PA  INTERS. 

day  ;  "  that  picture  makes  me  feel  as  I  feel  when  I  go  a-fishing."  That  picture, 
then  was  a  work  of  art.  "You  express  something  in  that  work,"  said  another 
spectator,  "  which  delights  me.  When  I  look  at  that  landscape,  I  feel  there  is 
no  Bin  there."  So  here  we  get  a  step  farther.  "When  I  attended  church," 
wrote  a  third  spectator,  "I  used  to  pay  the  preacher;  and  when  I  saw  your 
picture  I  felt  as  though  I  had  listened  to  a  sermon  which  had  done  me  good. 
Pray  accept  the  accompanying  trifle  as  a  slight  acknowledgment  of  my  indebt- 
edness." Well,  as  Prof.  Weir,  of  West  Point,  used  to  say,  "  some  pictures  are 
confessedly  immoral  in  their  tendency ;  why,  then,  cannot  other  pictures  be 
moral  in  their  tendency  ?  Why  is  it  not  lawful  for  an  artist  to  infuse  into  his 
work  a  moral  design  \  "  And  yet — but  we  are  not  discussing  the  ethics  of  art, 
nor  whether,  indeed,  it  has  any  ethics.     The  matter  can  be  dropped  at  once. 

"  Franconia  Notch,  from  Franconia  Village,"  and  "  Evening,  near  Tongue 
Mountain,  Lake  George,"  are  two  of  Mr.  Bristol's  latest  landscapes.  Mr.  Col- 
gate,  of  Twenty-third  Street,  New  York,  is  the  owner  of  his  Academy  contribu- 
tion in  1876 — "View  of  Lake  Champlain  from  Ferrisburg."  "  On  the  Connecti- 
cut, near  the  White  Mountains,"  went  a  short  time  ago  to  the  Burlington  (Ver- 
mont) Exhibition,  and,  almost  immediately  after  its  arrival,  found  a  purchaser. 
The  "  View  of  Mount  Oxford  "  brought  the  artist  a  medal  from  the  Centen- 
nial Commission  at  Philadelphia.  The  "  Ascutney  Mountains,"  and  the  "  Val- 
ley of  the  Housatonie,"  are  other  important  works.  Recently  Mr.  Bristol  has 
painted,  with  exceptional  success,  some  of  the  old,  covered  bridges  in  the  Con- 
necticul  Valley.  The  sight  of  them  goes  straight  home  to  many  a  son  of  New 
England. 

Mr.  Bristol's  sense  of  atmosphere  and  of  perspective  is  highly  stimulated, 
or  perhaps  we  should  say  quickened.  His  pictures  are  strongest  in  the  rendi- 
tion of  spaciousness,  of  sunshine,  and  of  cool,  transparent  shadow.  Placid  in 
spirit,  faithful  in  record,  unconventional  in  composition,  and  serious  in  pur- 
pose,  tiny  always  are.  They  readily  catch  the  local  effect  of  air  and  color,  and 
they  convej  for  the  most  part  a  general  impression  as  of  out-doors.  Their 
author  i-  a  mosl  industrious  and  progressive  workman;  his  last  pictures,  com- 
pared with  his  earlier  one-,  show  that,  as  the  years  bear  him  on,  his  vision  of 
Nature  widens.  Mr.  Bristol,  moreover,  is  thoroughly  original  in  his  methods 
and  his  subjects;  each  picture  that  lie  paints  being  a,  true  child  of  inspiration. 


0      -t* 


PETER    MOHAN. 


23 


Still  further,  and  most  excellently,  lie  is  not  a  copyist  of  himself,  as  is  the  man- 
ner of  some — of  many,  we  had  almost  said.  One  of  the  most  discouraging 
features  of  the  outlook  for  art  in  every  civilized  nation  of  to-day  is  the  fre- 
quency and  the  complacency  with  which  artists  repeat  themselves  in  theme 
and  in  scheme.  Even  a  breath  from  the  four  winds  could  scarcely  vivify  hones 
so  dry. 


A  much  younger  man  than  either  Mr.  Church,  Mr.  Sanford  Giftbrd,  or 
Mr.  Bristol,  is  Mr.  Peter  Mokan,  of  Philadelphia,  whose  talents  have  won  for 
him  an  early  and  hearty  recognition.  He  was  born  in  the  town  of  Bolton, 
Lancashire,  England,  on  the  -4th  of  March,  1842.  Three  years  afterward  he 
was  brought  to  America  by  his  parents,  and  at  sixteen  years  of  age  he  was  ap- 
prenticed by  his  father  to  learn  the  trade  of  lithographic  printing  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  Messrs.  Herline  &  Hersel,  of  Philadelphia,  Lithographic  printing 
is,  doubtless,  a  very  excellent  and  useful  occupation;  but  Morari  did  not  admire 
it.  He  worried  along  for  a  few  months,  as  miserable  as  possible,  until  he  suc- 
ceeded in  picking  a  very  serious  quarrel  with  his  employers,  and  in  getting  his 
indenture  canceled.  He  was  free  and  seventeen  years  old.  A  lad  who  would 
not  learn  so  excellent  and  useful  a  trade  as  that  of  lithographic,  printing  did 
not  meet  with  much  encouragement  from  his  matter-of-fact  relatives;  nor,  when 
he  told  them  that  he  had  long  cherished  the  aspiration  of  becoming  an  artist, 
did  their  estimate  of  his  sagacity  and  stability  increase.  His  father  had  taken 
the  measure  of  his  son's  capacity,  and  had  chosen  for  him  the  lot  of  a  skilled 
and  honest  craftsman.  His  friends,  too,  interested  themselves  in  him  so  far  as 
to  second  his  father's  plans,  and  to  discourage  his  liking  for  the  palette.  But 
to  no  purpose.  It  chanced  that  his  brothers  Thomas  and  Edward  were  pleas- 
antly ensconced  in  a  studio,  and  in  a  short  time  we  find  Peter  in  that  place 
as  their  pupil,  working  with  assiduity  in  the  departments  of  landscape  and 
marine  painting,  which  Thomas  and  Edward  were  successfully  cultivating. 
Thomas  painted  landscapes,  and  Peter  sequestrated  all  of  Thomas's  learning 
and  method  that  he  could  lay  hands  upon.  Edward  painted  marines,  and 
whatever  could  be  gotten  from  him  was  seized  and  taken  possession  of  in  like 
manner.     So  far,  so  good.     But  one  day  Peter,  seeing  a  landscape  by  Lambi- 


24  AMERI  C  A  X    P  A  I N  TER8. 

net,  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  presence  of  the  spirit  of  Nature  in  that 
lamented  artist's  work,  by  the  freshness,  dewiness,  transparency,  and  breadth 
of  his  representation,  and  led  to  a  serious  study  of  the  winning  Frenchman. 
Wherever  he  could  gain  access  to  a  Lambinet,  it  was  his  pleasure  and  desire 
to  go.  Under  the  influence  of  this  new  first  love,  he  painted  a  little  canvas, 
which  soon  found  a  buyer  in  Mr.  Samuel  Fales,  of  Philadelphia ;  and  it  is  that 
gentleman  whom  Mr.  Moran   might  call  his  professional  godfather. 

To  be  oil'  with  the  old  love  and  on  with  the  new  is  not  always  a  reprehen- 
sible or  unpromising  condition  ;  and  when  Mr.  Moran  began  to  associate  with 
Troyon  and  Rosa  Bonheur,  Avho  were  not  strangers  in  Philadelphia,  and  to 
find  that  he  cared  more  for  them  than  for  Lambinet,  his  conscience  acquiesced 
in  the  change.  Cows  and  sheep  thenceforth  invited  his  attention,  and  secured 
his  sympathy.  Not  cows  and  sheep  alone,  but  also  the  landscapes  which  they 
graced  or  enriched.  Troyon's  pictures,  especially,  took  hold  of  him,  and  have 
kept  hold  ever  since.  It  is  as  an  animal-painter  that  Moran  has  gotten  his 
success,  and  that,  doubtless,  he  will  continue  to  be  known.  In  order  to  study 
Landseer  to  advantage,  he  went  to  London  in  1863,  being  then  twenty-one 
years  old.  But  Landseer  and  the  English  artists  in  general  disappointed  him. 
Landseer,  no  doubt,  was  a  masterly  interpreter  of  animal  character,  both  from 
its  pathetic  and  humorous  side  ;  but  his  love  of  popularity,  or  some  other 
cause,  led  him  not  seldom  to  the  delineation  of  vulgarity,  to  excessive  carica- 
ture, and  to  an  overweening  fondness  for  the  literary  and  the  dramatic.  The 
next  year  Mr.  Moran  returned  home,  and  produced  a  large  animal-painting, 
which  he  sent  to  the  Philadelphia  Academy  Exhibition,  where,  before  the 
public  opening,  it  was  bought  by  Mr.  Matthew  Baldwin,  of  that  city.  He 
then  set  himself  to  the  delineation  of  Pennsylvania  farm-life — particularly  of 
barn-interiors  and  domestic  animals.  In  1873  he  painted  "  The  Thunder- 
storm,"  which  is  owned  by  Mr.  Harris,  of  Newark,  New  Jersey  ;  in  1874,  "A 
I'n-  on  the  Sea-shore,"  which  is  owned  in  Brooklyn,  and  "  Troublesome  Mod- 
eis,"  which  is  owned  by  Mr.  Z.  II.  Johnson,  of  New  York;  in  1875,  "The  Set- 
tled Rain,"  now  in  a  New  York  gallery,  and  "The  Return  of  the  Herd,"  which 
received  a  medal  in  (he  Centennial  Exhibition.  This  is  undoubtedly  his  best 
work.  "The  Return  from  Market  "  followed  in  1870,  and  was  bought  by  the 
late  Mr.  Matthew  Baird,  of  Philadelphia.     In   1877  his  principal  works  were 


iL;",l:f;l"':,l'iL 


" 


;  ii.ipwiwpwHinW 


WINSLOW    HOMER.  25 

"Spring,"  which  is  in  the  collection  of  Mrs.  C.  W.  Rowland,  of  Philadelphia; 
and  "Twilight,"  which  was  bought  by  Mr.  W.  H.  Whitney,  also  of  Philadel- 
phia. 

This  picture  we  have  engraved.  The  heaviest  clouds  are  a  dark-yellow 
gray  ;  those  nearer  the  horizon  are  warmer  in  tone  with  strong  reflected  light, 
the  color  of  which  is  white,  gradationed  into  yellow  and  blue.  The  sheep  are 
gray,  and  the  general  tone  of  the  dark  ground  against  the  sky  is  brown,  run- 
ning to  a  gray-green  in  the  foreground.  The  tone  of  the  painting,  as  a  whole, 
is  olive.  Evidences  of  fine  and  sensitive  observation  occur  in  this  representa- 
tion, and  the  sentiment  of  the  twilight  hour  is  tenderly  and  lovingly  expressed. 
The  other  picture  engraved  is  "  The  Return  of  the  Herd  "  during  the  approach 
of  a  thunder-storm.  Already  the  fierce  rain  has  overtaken  the  group  of  cattle 
in  the  distance,  but  the  white  cow  and  her  yellowish-red  calf  in  the  bright 
yellow-gray  foreground  are  enveloped  in  light.  The  bull  is  dark-brown  and 
black,  and  a  noble  specimen  of  his  race.  Mr.  Moran's  aim,  in  this  canvas  and 
elsewhere,  is  to  give  the  best  natural  representation  of  his  subject  in  a  broad 
and  general  manner. 

To  the  exhibition  of  the  American  Water-Color  Society,  in  1877,  Mr. 
Moran  contributed  several  etchings  on  copper,  and  also  paintings  in  water- 
colors,  entitled  "The  Noonday  Rest,"  "The. Stable-Door,"  and  "A  Mist  on  the 
Sea-shore."  They  are  substantial  and  effective  works.  In  addition  to  his  other 
prize,  he  received  au  award  of  a  medal  from  the  judges  at  the  Centen- 
nial Exhibition  for  a  set  of  fifteen  etchings.  He  is  persistently  industrious, 
and  his  future  is  promising. 


In  the  spring  of  1878  Mr.  Winslow  Homer  exhibited  in  a  Boston  auction- 
room  a  collection  of  fifty  or  more  sketches  in  pencil  and  in  water-colors  which 
possessed  unusual  interest.  In  composition  they  were  not  remarkable — few  of 
Mr.  Homer's  productions  are  noteworthy  in  that  respect ;  he  does  not  seem  to 
care  greatly  for  it ;  but,  in  their  ability  to  make  the  spectator  feel  their  sub- 
jects at  once,  they  were  very  strong.  Some  of  them  were  exceedingly  simple 
— a  girl  swinging  in  a  hammock,  another  standing  in  the  fields,  a  third  play- 
ing checkers  or  chess — yet  from  almost  all  of  them  there  came  a  sense  of  fresh- 


2g  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

ness  and  pleasurableness.  The  handling  of  the  figures  was  easy  and  decisive  ; 
you  said  to  yourself  that  the  pictures  had  been  made  quickly  and  without 
effort,  and  you  felt  that  in  most  instances,  at  least,  they  were  true  to  Nature. 
AVhen  the  sale  took  place  they  provoked  considerable  competition,  but  did 
not  fetch  a  great  deal  of  money,  partly  because  of  the  stringency  of  the 
times,  partly  because  of  the  lateness  of  the  seasou,  and  partly  because  of 
their  fragmentary  character.  They  widened  and  strengthened  the  artist's 
reputation,  however,  displaying  his  genius  to  much  better  advantage  than  do 
many  of  his  finished  works. 

Mr.  Homer  is,  perhaps,  as  much  respected  by  intelligent  lovers  of  art  as  is 
any  other  painter  in  this  country.  He  was  born  in  Boston,  February  24, 1836. 
When  six  years  old  he  went  with  his  parents  to  Cambridge,  and  acquired  a 
lasting  liking  for  out-door  country-life.  The  ponds,  the  meadows,  and  the  fish- 
ing, became  his  delight.  To  this  day  there  is  no  recreation  that  he  prefers  to 
an  excursion  into  the  country.  Like  most  artists,  he  was  fond  of  drawing 
sketches  in  his  boyhood.  He  has  a  pile  of  crayon  reproductions  of  all  sorts 
of  things,  made  as  early  as  1847,  each  picture  being  supplemented  by  his  full 
name  and  the  exact  date,  in  careful  juvenile  fashion.  His  father  eucouraged 
bis  leaning  toward  art,  and,  on  one  occasion,  when  on  a  visit  to  London,  sent 
him  a  complete  set  of  lithographs  by  Julian — representations  of  heads,  ears, 
noses,  eyes,  faces,  trees,  houses,  everything  that  a  young  draughtsman  might 
fancy  trying  his  hand  at — and  also  lithographs  of  animals  by  Victor  Adam, 
which  the  son  hastened  to  make  profitable  use  of.  At  school  he  drew  maps 
and  illustrated  text-books,  stealthily  but  systematically.  When  the  time  came 
for  him  to  choose  a  business  or  profession,  his  parents  never  once  thought  of 
his  becoming  an  artist,  and,  of  course,  did  not  recognize  the  fact  that  he  was 
already  one.  It  chanced  on  a  certain  morning  that  his  father,  while  reading  a 
newspaper,  caught  sight  of  the  following  brief  advertisement:  "  Boy  wanted; 
apply  to  Bufford,  lithographer.  Must  have  a  taste  for  drawing.  No  other 
wanted."  Now,  Bufford  was  a  friend  of  the  elder  Homer,  and  a  member  of 
I  lie  lire  company  of  which  the  latter  was  the  foreman — in  those  days  the  fire 
department  in  New  England  towns  was  conducted  by  gentlemen.  "There's 
a  chance  for  Winslow  !  "  exclaimed  the  author  of  Winslow's  being.  Applica- 
tion was  made  forthwith  to  Bufford;  and  the  furnishing-store  across  the  way, 


IS)  ^ 

K 

i  s 

3  * 

w  ^ 

s  I 

w  s 

H  1, 


WINS  LOW    IIOMER.  27 

where  were  sold  dickeys,  etc.,  and  where,  at  one  time,  it  was  seriously  thought 
that  Winslow  had  better  begin  life  as  clerk,  was  abandoned  for  the  headquar- 
ters of  Cambridge  lithography.  The  boy  was  accepted  on  trial  for  two  weeks. 
He  suited,  and  staid  for  two  years,  or  until  he  was  twenty-one.  He  suited 
so  well,  indeed,  that  his  employer  relinquished  the  bonus  of  three  hundred 
dollars  usually  demanded  of  apprentices  in  consideration  of  their  being  taught 
a  trade.  His  first  work  was  designing  title-pages  for  sheet-music,  ordered  by 
Oliver  Ditson  of  Boston — "  Katy  Darling  "  and  "  Oh,  whistle  and  I'll  come  to 
You,  my  Lad  "  being  the  subjects  of  his  initial  efforts  in  this  direction.  Buf- 
ford  assigned  to  him  the  more  interesting  kinds  of  pictorial  decoration,  leaving 
such  avocations  as  card-printing  to  the  other  apprentices.  His  most  important 
triumph  at  the  lithographer's  was  the  designing  on  stone  of  the  portraits  of 
the  entire  Senate  of  Massachusetts.  But  his  sojourn  there  was  a  treadmill 
existence.  Two  years  at  that  grindstone  unfitted  him  for  further  bondage ; 
and,  since  the  clay  he  left  it,  he  has  called  no  man  master.  He  determined  to 
be  an  artist;  took  a  room  in  the  Bailouts  Pictorial  Building,  in  Winter  Street, 
Boston,  and  made  drawings,  occasionally,  for  that  periodical.  His  first  pro- 
duction there  was  a  sketch  of  a  street-scene  in  Boston — some  horses  rearing  in 
lively  fashion,  aud  several  pedestrians  promenading  on  the  sidewalk.  In  a 
year  or  two  he  began  to  send  sketches  to  Harper  &  Brothers,  of  New  York, 
who  invariably  accepted  them.  Some  of  these  early  works  were  a  series  en- 
titled "Life  in  Harvard  College,"  including  a  foot-ball  game  on  the  campus. 
He  knew  the  students  well,  and  had  cultivated  them  a  good  deal.  ■  Next  he 
drew  cartoons  of  the  muster  at  Concord,  in  1857  or  1858,  also  for  the  Harpers. 
Soon  he  spent  a  winter  in  New  York,  attended  a  drawing-school  in  Brooklyn, 
and  visited  the  old  Diisseldorf  Gallery  on  Broadway,  where  he  saw  and  was 
deeply  impressed  by  Page's  "  Venus."  "  What  I  remember  best,"  says  Mr. 
Homer,  "  is  the  smell  of  paint ;  I  used  to  love  it  in  a  picture-gallery."  The 
Harpers  sent  for  him,  and  made  him  a  generous  offer  to  enter  their  establish- 
ment and  work  regularly  as  an  artist,  "  I  declined  it,"  says  Homer,  "  because 
I  had  had  a  taste  of  freedom.  The  slavery  at  Bufford's  was  too  fresh  in  my 
recollection  to  let  me  care  to  bind  myself  again.  From  the  time  that  I  took 
my  nose  off  that  lithographic  stone,  I  have  had  no  master,  and  never  shall 
have  any." 


28  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

It  was  in  1S59  that  he  came  to  New  York.  For  two  years  he  occupied  a 
studio  in  Nassau  Street,  and  lived  in  Sixteenth  Street.  Gradually  he  got  ac- 
quainted with  the  artists,  and  in  1*61  he  moved  to  the  University  Building 
on  Washington  Square,  where  several  of  them  had  rooms.  He  attended  the 
night-school  of  the  Academy  of  Design,  then  in  Thirteenth  Street,  under  Prof. 
Curamings's  tuition,  and  in  1861  determined  to  paint.  For  a  month,  in  the 
old  Dodworth  Building  near  Grace  Church,  he  took  lessons  in  painting  of 
Rondel,  an  artist  from  Boston,  who,  once  a  week,  on  Saturdays,  taught  him 
how  to  handle  his  brush,  set  his  palette,  etc.  The  next  summer  he  bought 
a  tin  box,  containing  pigments,  oils,  and  various  equipments,  and  started 
out  into  the  country  to  paint  from  Nature.  Funds  being  scarce,  he  got  an 
appointment  from  the  Harpers  as  artist-correspondent  at  the  seat  of  Avar,  and 
went  to  Washington,  where  he  drew  sketches  of  Lincoln's  inauguration,  and 
afterward  to  the  front  with  the  first  batch  of  soldier-volunteers.  Twice  again 
he  made  a  trip  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  these  times  independently  of  the 
publishers.  His  first  oil-paintings  were  pictures  of  war-scenes ;  for  example  : 
"  Home,  Sweet  Home,"  which  represents  homesick  soldiers  listening  to  the 
playing  of  a  regimental  band  ;  "  The  Last  Goose  at  Yorktown,"  now  owned 
by  Mi-.  Dean,  of  Waverley  Place,  New  York  ;  and  "  Zouaves  pitching  Quoits." 
In  1865  he  painted  his  "  Prisoners  to  the  Front,"  recently  in  Mr.  John  Taylor 
Johnston's  collection,  a  work  which  soon  gave  him  reputation. 

One  of  his  latest  productions  is  the  "  Cotton-Pickers,"  two  stalwart  negro 
women  in  a  cotton-field,  which  now  has  a  home  in  London.  His  "A  Fair 
Wind  "  and  "  Over  the  Hills  "  are  in  New  York,  in  Mr.  Charles  Smith's  gal- 
lery. Mr.  Homer  is  not  wholly  a  master  of  technique,  but  he  understands 
the  nature  and  the  aims  of  art ;  he  can  see  and  lay  hold  of  the  essentials  of 
character,  and  he  paints  his  own  thoughts — not  other  persons'.  It  is  not 
strange,  therefore,  that,  almost  from  the  outset  of  his  career  as  a  painter,  his 
works  have  compelled  the  attention  of  the  public,  and  have  invested  them- 
selves with  earnest  admiration.  The  praise  they  have  earned  is  honest 
praise.  They  reveal  on  the  part  of  the  artist  an  ability  to  grasp  dominant 
characteristics  and  to  reproduce  specific  expressions  of  scenes  and  sitters; 
and  for  this  reason  it  is  that  no  two  of  Mr.  Homer's  pictures  look  alike. 
Every  canvas  with  his  name  attached  bears  the  reflex  of  a  distinct  artistic 


IN     THE     FIELDS. 
From  a  Painting  by  Winslow  Homer. 


p.  28. 


GEORGE    IN  NESS. 


29 


impression.  His  style  is  large  and  free,  realistic  and  straight  for  wan  I,  broad 
and  bold;  and  many  of  bis  finished  works  have  somewhat  of  the  charm  of 
open-air  sketches — were,  indeed,  painted  out-doors  in  the  sunlight,  in  the 
immediate  presence  of  Nature;  while  in  the  best  of  them  may  always  be 
recognized  a  certain  noble  simplicity,  quietude,  and  sobriety,  that  one  feels 
grateful  for  in  an  age  of  gilded  spread-eagleism,  together  with  an  abundance 
of  free  touches  made  in  inspired  unconsciousness  of  rules,  and  sometimes 
fine  enough  almost  to  atone  for  insufficiency  of  textures  and  feebleness  of 
relation  of  color  to  sentiment.  His  negro  studies,  recently  brought  from 
Virginia,  are  in  several  respects — in  their  total  freedom  from  conventional- 
ism and  mannerism,  in  their  strong  look  of  life,  and  in  their  sensitive  feeling 
for  character — the  most  successful  things  of  the  kind  that  this  country  has 
yet  produced.  One  of  them,  "  Eating  Watermelons,"  we  have  engraved. 
It  is  a  chapter  in  the  life  of  an  American  boy.  His  "  Snap  the  Whip  " 
and  "  Village  School,"  in  Mr.  John  H.  Sherwood's  collection,  are  other  chap- 
ters. His  fame  as  a  painter  was  founded  upon  his  original  and  happy  treat- 
ment of  just  such  subjects  as  these.  "  In  the  Fields "  shows  us  a  stalwart 
young  farmer  stopping  to  listen  to  the  song  of  a  lark.  "  The  Song  of  the 
Lark  "  was  its  title  on  the  occasion  of  its  first  exhibition  in  1877  in  the  gallery 
of  the  Century  Club. 


No  American  painter  has  thought  more  deeply  and  can  express  himself 
more  instructively  concerning  the  philosophy  of  his  art  than  Mr.  George 
Inness.  He  was  born  in  Newburg,  New  York,  May  1,  1825.  In  his  four- 
teenth year  his  parents  were  living  in  Newark,  New  Jersey,  where  he  took 
lessons  of  an  old  drawing-teacher  named  Barker.  "  I  used  often  to  wonder," 
he  says,  "  if  I  should  ever  be  able  to  do  what  he  did."  At  this  time,  as  before 
and  since,  his  health  was  extremely  delicate.  His  sleep  was  disturbed  by 
frightful  dreams,  which  often  caused  him  to  jump  out  of  bed  and  run  down- 
stairs in  terror.  His  father  tried  to  start  him  in  a  store,  but  in  a  month  he 
had  driven  all  the  customers  away.  He  did  not  take  kindly  to  mercantile  life. 
Sherman  &  Smith,  of  New  York,  map-engravers,  received  him  next.  The 
confinement  told  too  heavily  upon  him,  and  in  one  year  he  left  the  place,  but 


30  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

soon  returned,  and  left  again.  He  went  home  to  Newark,  made  some  studies 
and  sketches  from  Nature,  and  soon  afterward  entered  the  studio  of  Regis 
Gignoux,  in  New  York.  In  a  few  mouths  he  was  at  work  in  his  own  studio. 
Mr.  J.  J.  Mapes,  of  New  York,  bought  one  of  the  first  of  the  young  artist's 
pictures — a  small  landscape  with  sheep — for  twenty-five  dollars ;  the  Art 
Union  became  a  good  customer,  and  Mi-.  Ogden  Haggerty  a  warm  friend. 
But  Mr.  Inness  soon  became  dissatisfied  with  what  he  had  done.  He  noticed 
in  some  prints  after  the  old  masters  the  presence  of  a  spirit  that  did  not  ani- 
mate his  own  productions.  He  took  the  prints  with  him  out  to  Nature,  and 
tried  to  find  what  it  was  that  produced  the  sentiment  he  so  admired  and 
missed.  At  that  time  his  preference  was  for  Durand  over  Cole,  and  he  had 
begun  to  be  successful.  Mr.  Haggerty  offered  to  send  him  to  Europe ;  and 
some  time  afterward  he  set  sail  for  England,  and  on  arriving  there  proceeded 
straight  to  Rome.  He  was  in  Italy  fifteen  months,  and  soon  in  New  York 
again.  The  works  of  the  European  artists,  which  were  beginning  to  find  their 
way  to  this  country,  continued  to  impress  him ;  and  in  1850,  about  a  year 
and  a  half  after  his  first  visit,  he  returned  to  Europe  and  remained  iu  France 
a  year.  In  1860  he  was  settled  iu  the  simple  country  scenery  of  Meclfield, 
Massachusetts,  where  he  painted  some  of  his  best  pictures,  among  them  a 
landscape  now  belonging  to  Mr.  Gibson,  of  Brooklyn,  which  a  distinguished 
friend  named  "  Light  Triumphant,"  and  which  we  have  engraved.  Mr.  May- 
nard,  of  Boston,  bought  some  of  his  finest  works,  notably  a  large  road-scene  at 
twilight.  His  style  then  was  rich  and  full  in  color,  strong  and  impulsive.  "  I 
always  felt,"  he  says,  "  as  if  I  had  two  opposing  styles  " — one  impetuous  and 
eager,  the  other  classic  and  elegant ;  so  that,  while  some  of  his  pictures  were 
dashed  off  under  an  inspiration,  others  were  painfully  elaborated.  After 
four  years  he  left  Meclfield  for  Eaglewood,  near  Perth  Amboy,  New  Jersey. 
There  he  fell  into  the  study  of  theology,  which  for  seven  years  was  almost  his 
only  reading.  Meanwhile  he  painted  a  number  of  highly-successful  land- 
scapes, the  best  of  which  is  twenty  by  thirty  inches,  and  belongs  to  Mr. 
Skates,  of  New  York.  He  returned  to  New  York,  lived  there  a  year,  went 
again  to  Rome,  remained  there  and  in  Paris  four  years,  his  pictures  gradually 
assuming  a  more  studied  style,  came  back  to  this  country,  sojourned  a  year  in 
Boston,  and  then  found  his  way  to  New  York,  where  his  home  has  been  ever 


5 

£ 

$ 


GEORGE    INN  ESS. 


31 


since.  His  "  Homestead  "  and  "  Autumn,"  the  former  in  the  South  Room  and 
the  latter  in  the  North  Room  during  the  exhibition  in  the  New  York  National 
Academy  in  1877,  are  undoubtedly  the  best  things  he  ha9  yet  done,  the 
"  Homestead  "  being  especially  noteworthy  for  its  elaboration  and  for  its  per- 
fection of  natural  quality.  The  texture  of  the  grass  in  the  foreground  and 
the  fullness  and  harmony  of  local  color  are  wonderfully  true  to  Nature. 
These  traits  are  characteristic  of  his  landscapes.  His  favorite  process  of  paint- 
ing is  as  follows :  First,  he  stains  his  white,  fresh  canvas  with  Venetian  red, 
but  not  enough  to  lose  the  sense  of  entire  transparency.  Then,  with  a  piece 
of  charcoal  he  draws,  more  or  less  carefully,  the  outlines  of  the  picture,  after- 
ward confirming  the  outline  with  a  pencil,  and  puts  in  a  few  of  the  prominent 
shadows  with  a  little  ivory-black  on  a  brush.  His  principal  pigments  are 
white,  very  little  black,  Antwerp-blue,  Indian-red,  and  lemon-chrome.  He 
begins  anywhere  on  the  canvas,  and  works  in  mass  from  generals  to  particu- 
lars, keeping  his  shadows  thin  and  transparent,  and  allowing  the  red  with 
which  the  canvas  was  stained  to  come  through  as  a  part  of  the  color.  When 
the  work  is  sufficiently  dry,  he  adds  to  his  palette  cobalt  (for  the  sake  of 
giving  permanency  to  the  blues),  brown,  and  pink.  The  last  steps  are  glaz- 
ing, delicate  painting,  and  scumbling,  and  the  use  of  any  additional  pigments 
that  are  needed. 

Mr.  Inness  sometimes  paints  for  fifteen  hours  a  day,  the  length  of  time,  of 
course,  depending  chiefly  upon  physical  condition,  states  of  feeling,  and  the 
nature  of  the  emotion  to  be  expressed.  He  paints  standing,  whether  the  can- 
vas is  large  or  small.  His  keenest  pleasure  is  usually  at  the  beginning  of  his 
task ;  as  the  picture  gets  under  way,  the  labor  becomes  harder  and  harder,  and 
he  often  lays  the  canvas  aside  for  another  one.  Sometimes  he  has  twenty 
pictures  in  hand  simultaneously,  working  on  four  or  five  of  them  in  a  single 
day. 

Mr.  Inness's  nature  is  a  deeply  religious  one.  When  painting,  he  always 
feels  that  there  is  a  power  behind  him  teaching  him — not,  indeed,  how  to  paint, 
but  what  is  truth,  what  is  the  significance  of  things.  "  The  whole  effort  and 
aim  of  the  true  artist,"  he  said  one  day  while  conversing  with  the  writer,  "  is 
to  eschew  whatever  is  individual,  whatever  is  the  result  of  the  influence  of  his 
own  evil  nature,  of  his  own  carnal  lusts,  and  to  acknowledge  nothing  but  the 


32  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

inspiration  that  comes  from  truth  and  goodness,  or  the  divine  principle  within 
him,  nothing  hut  the  one  personality  or  God,  who  is  the  centre  of  man,  and  the 
source  of  all  noble  inspiration.  For,  just  as  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  person- 
alize Nature  on  his  canvas,  so  it  is  impossible  for  him  truly  to  personalize  him- 
self. .  Like  every  other  man,  the  artist  is  an  individual  representation  of  a  per- 
sonality, which  is  God.  This  personality  is  everywhere  to  be  loved  and  rev- 
erenced ;  but  the  assumption  of  it  to  self  is  the  creation  in  man  of  his  own 
misery ;  the  subjection  of  himself  to  insults,  to  distresses,  to  a  general  disa- 
greement with  all  the  conditions  of  his  existence.  By  eschewing  it  as  belong- 
ing to  himself,  he  learns  to  love  and  to  reverence  it  as  represented  in  truth  and 
good  everywhere.  That  truth  and  good  are  God,  existing  from  the  beginning, 
one  with  the  beginning,  creating  all  things.  I  would  not  give  a  fig  for  art- 
ideas  except  as  they  represent  what  I  perceive  behind  them ;  and  I  love  to 
think  most  of  what  I,  in  common  with  all  men,  need  most — the  good  of  our 
practice  in  the  art  of  life.  Rivers,  streams,  the  rippling  brook,  the  hill-side, 
the  sky,  clouds — all  things  that  we  see — will  convey  the  sentiment  of  the 
highest  art  if  we  are  in  the  love  of  God  and  the  desire  of  truth." 

In  the  same  conversation,  Mr.  Inness  expressed  himself  as  follows  con- 
cerning the  true  purpose  of  the  painter :  This  purpose  is  "  simply  to  repro- 
duce in  other  minds  the  impression  which  a  scene  has  made  upon  him.  A 
work  of  art  does  not  appeal  to  the  intellect.  It  does  not  appeal  to  the  moral 
sense.  Its  aim  is  not  to  instruct,  not  to  edify,  but  to  awaken  an  emotion. 
This  emotion  may  be  one  of  love,  of  pity,  of  veneration,  of  hate,  of  pleasure, 
or  of  pain ;  but  it  must  be  a  single  emotion,  if  the  work  has  unity,  as  every 
such  work  should  have,  and  the  true  beauty  of  the  work  consists  in  the  beau- 
ty of  the  sentiment  or  emotion  which  it  inspires.  Its  real  greatness  consists 
in  the  quality  and  the  force  of  this  emotion.  Details  in  the  picture  must  be 
elaborated  only  enough  fully  to  reproduce  the  impression  that  the  artist  wishes 
to  reproduce.  When  more  than  this  is  done,  the  impression  is  weakened  or 
lost,  and  we  see  simply  an  array  of  external  things,  which  may  be  very  clev- 
erly painted,  and  may  look  very  real,  but  which  do  not  make  an  artistic  paint- 
ing. The  effort  and  the  difficulty  of  an  artist  are  to  combine  the  two,  namely, 
to  make  the  thought  clear  and  to  preserve  the  uuity  of  impression.  Meisso- 
nier  always  makes  his  thought  clear;  he  is  most  painstaking  with  details,  but 


0 

z 

4 

E 

J 

< 

<l 

r 

J 

s 

J 

> 

X? 

^ 

3 

Z 

* 

~ 

H 

&° 

01 

a 

2! 

a   < 


2    $ 


GEORGE    TNNES8. 


33 


he  sometimes  loses  in  sentiment.  Corot,  on  the  contrary,  is,  to  some  minds, 
lacking  in  objective  force.  He  is  most  appreciated  by  the  highly-educated 
artistic  taste,  and  lie  is  least  appreciated  by  the  crude  taste.  He  tried  for 
years  to  get  more  objective  force,  but  he  found  that  what  lie  gained  in  thai 
respect  he  lost  in  sentiment.  If  a  painter  could  unite  Meissonier's  careful 
reproduction  of  details  with  Corot's  inspirational  power,  he  would  be  the  very 
god  of  art.  But  Corot's  art  is  higher  than  Meissonier's.  Let  Corot  paint  a 
rainbow,  and  his  work  reminds  you  of  the  poet's  description,  'The  rainbow 
is  the  spirit  of  the  flowers.'  Let  Meissouier  paint  a  rainbow,  and  his  work 
reminds  you  of  a  definition  in  chemistry.  The  one  is  poetic  truth,  the  other  is 
scientific  truth ;  the  former  is  aesthetic,  the  latter  is  analytic.  The  reality  of 
every  artistic  vision  lies  in  the  thought  animating  the  artist's  mind.  This  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  every  artist  who  attempts  only  to  imitate  what  he  sees 
fails  to  represent  that  something  which  comes  home  to  him  as  a  satisfaction — 
fails  to  make  a  representation  corresponding  in  the  satisfaction  which  it  pro- 
duces to  the  satisfaction  felt  in  his  first  perception.  Consequently,  we  find 
that  men  of  strong  artistic  genius,  which  enables  them  to  dash  off  an  impres- 
sion coming,  as  they  suppose,  from  what  is  outwardly  seen,  may  produce  a 
work,  however  incomplete  or  imperfect  in  details,  of  greater  vitality,  having 
more  of  that  peculiar  quality  called  '  freshness,'  either  as  to  color  or  spon- 
taneity of  artistic  impulse,  than  can  other  men  after  laborious  efforts — a  work 
which  appeals  to  the  cultivated  mind  as  something  more  or  less  perfect  of 
Nature.  Now,  this  spontaneous  movement  by  which  he  produces  a  picture  is 
governed  by  the  law  of  homogeneity  or  unity,  and  accordingly  we  find  that 
in  proportion  to  the  perfection  of  his  genius  is  the  unity  of  his  picture." 

Concerning  chiaro-oscuro,  or  the  means  of  producing  sensuous  impressions 
of  objects  by  effects  of  light  and  dark,  the  mind,  said  Mr.  Inness,  is  governed 
by  a  law  of  equilibrium.  "  If  we  consider  for  a  moment  that  all  things  appear 
to  us  (so  far  as  their  light  and  dark,  or  chiai'O-oscuro,  are  concerned)  by  means 
of  the  shadow  which  their  own  objectivity  produces,  we  shall  see  at  once  that, 
in  reasoning  concerning  light  and  dark,  we  must  start  from  the  point  of  equi- 
librium, which  is  half-way  between  light  and  dark.  At  that  point  all  things 
cease  to  appear — all  is  light  and  flat  as  a  fog  of  vapor  that  obscures  every- 
thing.    Now,  in  Nature  we  find  that  the  horizon  is  where  all  things  cease  to 


34 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


appear.  The  horizon,  therefore,  the  flat  blue  of  the  sky  (not  clouds)  is  the 
point  of  equilibrium — the  foil  against  which  all  lights  and  darks  are  relieved, 
the  middle  tone  or  the  half-dark  or  half-light  of  the  picture.  Hence,  it  is  the 
horizon  that  the  artist  must  consult  in  producing  a  representation  in  which  all 
parts  are  in  equilibrium  ;  and  there  is  no  greater  difficulty  than  in  finding  the 
relation  which  the  sky  bears  to  the  objects  in  his  landscape.  The  eye  is  con- 
tinually deceived  by  the  tendency  of  the  mind  to  make  violent  contrasts  of 
light  against  dark,  and  dark  agaiust  light,  when  looking  at  Nature  analyti- 
cally. A  person  seeing  a  dark  shadow  (as  of  a  building)  against  the  horizon, 
cannot  easily  keep  at  the  same  time  the  idea  that  the  horizon  is  really  the  half- 
way house  of  light  and  dark ;  but,  if  from  the  deck  of  a  vessel  he  will  observe 
the  ocean-line  when  the  sun  is  under  a  cloud,  he  will  find  that,  although  the 
sky  at  the  horizon  appears  to  him  to  be  very  light,  yet  the  moment  that  the 
sun  dashes  its  light  upon  the  water  the  exact  reverse  is  produced — the  sky 
looking  very  dark,  showing  that  the  proposition  is  true.  .  .  . 

"There  is  a  notion,"  he  continued,  "that  objective  force  is  inconsistent  with 
poetic  representation.  But  this  is  a  very  grave  error.  What  is  often  called 
poetry  is  a  mere  jingle  of  rhyme — intellectual  dish-water.  The  poetic  quality 
is  not  obtained  by  eschewing  any  truths  of  fact  or  of  Nature  which  can  be 
included  in  a  harmony  or  real  representation.  The  lack  of  local  color  in  a 
work  of  art — the  lack  of  objective  form,  even  though  the  work  may  have  the 
equilibrium  of  a  well-diffused  ehiaro-oscuro — is  still,  so  far,  a  detraction  from 
its  power  forcibly  to  represent  emotional  vision,  and  therefore  a  lack  in  the  full 
presentation  of  the  poetic  principle.  Poetry  is  the  vision  of  reality.  When 
John  saw  the  vision  of  the  Apocalypse,  he  saw  it.  He  did  not  see  emascula- 
tion, or  weakness,  or  gaseous  representation.  He  saw  things,  and  those  things 
represented  an  idea.  .  .  . 

"  Among  the  French  artists  it  is  that  we  find  the  best  works  of  art.  Mil- 
let is  one  of  those  artistic  angels  whose  aim  was  to  represent  pure  and  holy 
human  sentiments — sentiments  which  speak  of  home,  of  love,  of  labor,  of  sor- 
row, and  so  on.  Many  of  his  pictures,  indeed,  display  weaknesses  to  which 
minds  like  his  are  at  times  peculiarly  liable,  as  though  the  strength  of  flesh 
and  blood  had  overcome  the  power  of  the  spirit.  But  he  is  the  very  first  in 
that  class  of  painters  who  reproduce  such  sentiments  in  their  paintings;  and  in 


THOMAS    HICKS.  35 

his  paintings  do  we  find  the  highest  of  these  sentiments.  Meissonier  is  a  very 
wonderful  painter,  but  his  aim  seems  to  be  a  material  and  not  a  spiritual  one. 
The  imitative  has  too  strong  a  hold  upon  his  mind.  Hence,  even  in  his  sim- 
plest and  best  things  we  find  the  presence  of  individualities  which  should 
have  had  no  place,  because  they  are  really  outside  of  the  idea  or  impression 
which  he  intended  to  convey.  That  idea  which  came  fresh  into  his  mind  from 
the  scene  which  he  saw — why  should  he  not  have  reproduced  in  its  original 
purity  unalloyed  by  the  mixture  of  those  individualities  ?  Even  in  his  great- 
est efforts  there  is  not  that  power  to  awaken  our  emotion  which  the  simplest 
works  of  a  painter  like  Decamps  possess.  There  every  detail  of  the  picture 
is  a  part  of  the  vision  which  impressed  the  artist,  and  which  he  purposed  to 
reproduce,  to  the  end  that  it  might  impress  others  ;  and  every  detail  has  been 
subordinated  to  the  expression  of  the  artist's  impression.  Take  one  of  his 
pictures,  '  The  Suicide ' — a  representation  of  a  dead  man  lying  on  a  bed  in  a 
garret,  partly  in  the  sunlight.  All  is  given  up  to  the  expression  of  the  idea 
of  desolation.  The  scene  is  painted  as  though  the  artist  had  seen  it  in  a 
dream.  Nothing  is  done  to  gratify  curiosity,  or  to  withdraw  the  mind  from 
the  great  central  point — the  dead  man  ;  yet  all  is  felt  to  be  complete  and 
truly  finished.  The  spectator  carries  away  from  it  a  strong  impression,  but 
his  memory  is  not  taxed  with  a  multitude  of  facts.  The  simple  story  is  im- 
pressed upon  his  mind,  and  remains  there  forever.  .  .  . 

In  Mr.  Inness's  "  Light  Triumphant,"  and  "  Pine  Grove,  Barberini  Villa," 
which  are  engraved  herewith,  these  principles  of  art  are  fully  exemplified. 
The  rendering  of  light,  of  color,  and  of  texture,  is  very  nobly  done.  Some  of 
his  works,  to  be  sure,  are  not  so  successful,  but  his  aim  is  always  pure,  and 
his  inspiration  is  always  felt.  He  is  a  great  painter,  and  his  name  will  be 
held  in  honor. 


In  early  boyhood,  Thomas  Hicks,  who  was  born  at  Newtown,  Bucks 
County,  Pennsylvania,  October  18,  1823,  had  developed  a  talent  for  drawing, 
especially  for  caricaturing.  The  antimasonic  campaign  was  vigorous  in  Bucks 
County  in  those  days,  and  Thomas  made  a  sketch  admirably  adapted  to  elicit 
the  execrations  of  every  stanch  freemason  in  the  neighborhood.     The  village 


36  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

postmaster,  Laving  seen  and  admired  that  sketch,  presented  the  author  of  it 
with  Cunningham's  "  Lives  of  the  English  Painters,"  one  of  the  lives  in  which 
— that  of  Barry — fired  the  enthusiasm  of  the  recipient.  "  I  will  he  a  painter," 
he  resolved,  keeping  the  resolution  at  once  by  producing  a  portrait  of  his 
cousin,  and  keeping  the  portrait  two  months  for  fear  that  it  might  cause  him 
ridicule.  He  showed  it  to  the  brother  of  the  subject.  It  was  recognized  at 
once  as  a  portrait,  and  the  young  artist  took  great  courage. 

Dr.  Kennedy,  of  Philadelphia,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  Newtown,  became 
interested  in  Hicks,  and  advised  him  to  go  to  the  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts 
in  the  Quaker  City.  The  portrait-painter  went  there — it  was  in  the  summer 
of  1839.  In  the  winter,  for  some  inscrutable  reason,  the  doors  of  the  institu- 
tion were  closed,  and  Hicks  repaired  to  the  National  Academy  of  Design,  then 
at  Beekman  and  Nassau  Streets,  New  York.  There  he  drew  so  successfully 
from  the  antique  that,  before  the  season  ended,  he  was  admitted  to  the  life- 
school  as  a  reward  of  merit.  A  number  of  his  pictures,  chiefly  genre  subjects, 
were  soon  bought  by  the  Art  Union.  In  1845  Mr.  Hicks  went  to  London, 
and,  after  experimenting  in  the  National  Gallery,  made  a  copy  of  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds's  "  Infant  Samuel,"  ordered  by  Mr.  Hippolyte  Mali.  In  the  sailing- 
packet  which  took  him  across  the  Atlantic  were  Mr.  Goodwin,  and  Mr.  Dalton, 
of  Boston,  young  Mr.  Oxnard,  and  Colonel  Polk,  a  brother  of  the  President, 
just  appointed  charge  at  Naples.  Not  long  afterward  he  met  Oxnard  in  Par- 
is. "  Goodwin  wants  to  see  you,"  said  the  latter  ;  "  he  is  in  the  long  gallery 
of  the  Louvre."  Hicks,  whose  finances  were  not  in  a  plethoric  condition — he 
had  left  home  with  a  small  letter  of  credit,  and  with  the  intention  of  staying 
away  only  a  year — hastened  to  find  his  late  fellow-passenger.  "  Walk  down 
the  gallery  with  me,"  said  Goodwin,  "  and  show  me  what  you  admire."  The 
artist  had  been  working  his  brains  and  wrist  several  weeks  in  that  gener- 
ously-stocked museum — had,  indeed,  worked  himself  half  sick,  and  knew  what 
was  choice.  "  Pick  out  some  smaller  samples,"  said  the  patron,  when  the 
larger  ones  had  been  indicated  to  him,  "  and  we  will  walk  back  again."  Cor- 
reggio's  "Mystic  Marriage  of  St.  Catherine"  was  one  of  the  works  that  pleased 
them  both,  and  Hicks  received  from  Goodwin  an  order  for  a  copy.  He 
spent  three  years  in  Italy.  In  1847,  Kensett,  George  William  Curtis,  W.  W. 
Story,  and  Margaret  Fuller,   came  to  Rome,  and  a  merry  party  they  made, 


w 

0        Sj 

X 

u 


w  •= 

o  -5 

<  =2 

s!  ; 

a 

0  u; 
Z 


THOMAS    HI  OK 8. 


■■■•: 


holding  receptions  every  night.  In  the  summer  of  that  year  Hicks,  Kensett, 
Curtis,  and  his  brother  Burril  Curtis,  went  to  Venice  and  remained  a  month. 
During  June  of  the  next  year,  Hicks  returned  to  Paris  at  the  beginning  of  the 
revolution  there,  entered  the  studio  of  Couture — then  quite  the  fashionable 
resort  for  our  young  artists  abroad — ascertained  that  the  demerits  rather  than 
the  merits  of  that  painter  usually  descended  upon  his  pupils,  became  satisfied 
that  his  own  case  was  not  likely  to  be  an  exception,  and,  after  an  eighteen 
months'  sojourn,  came  home. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1849  that  he  found  himself  in  his  studio  on  Broad- 
way, near  Prince  Street,  and  also  in  the  Century  Club,  where  he  has  held 
many  positions  of  honor.  At  a  meeting  of  the  club,  January  26,  1858,  he 
read  a  eulogy  on  the  character  and  works  of  Thomas  Crawford,  the  sculptor, 
which  was  published  by  order  of  the  club  and  extensively  circulated. 

The  following  passage  from  it  gives  some  of  Mr.  Hicks's  views  on  art-mat- 
ters :  "  From  the  number  and  variety  of  Crawford's  works,  together  with  the 
rapidity  of  their  execution,  it  might  be  inferred  that  he  did  not  bestow  upon 
them  the  elaboration  which  sculpture  requires.  But  in  a  careful  examina- 
tion of  their  intrinsic  merit,  if  such  deficiencies  are  discovered,  they  are 
the  results  of  two  facts  with  which  he  was  perfectly  acquainted :  First, 
that  the  imagination  and  other  high  faculties  of  the  mind,  when  educated 
and  intelligent,  are  affected  by  the  very  reverse  of  those  qualities  which  are 
merely  visual,  microscopic,  and  mechanical ;  and,  secondly,  that  his  invention 
was  so  fertile,  his  thoughts  and  fancy  so  teeming  with  forms  of  grandeur  and 
beauty,  that  the  necessity  to  create  new  works  was  imperative.  Some  such 
charges  were  made  against  Michael  Angelo — how  groundlessly,  history  is  per- 
petually demonstrating.  Does  it  ever  occur  to  a  cultivated  mind  that  the 
Sibyls  and  Prophets  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  are  wanting  in  finish  ?  Still,  the 
works  of  Carlo  Dolci  have  many  admirers,  and  Michel  Angelo  has  left  the 
indisputable  proof  of  his  ability  to  lose  in  monotonous  softness  all  traces  of 
other  character,  and  has  showed  his  contempt  for  it  in  a  solitary  bass-relief  in 
the  Uffizi  Gallery  at  Florence.  Crawford,  also,  in  some  of  his  works,  carried 
tenderness  and  elaboration  into  the  siqjerlative  degree.  In  the  group  of  '  The 
Children  in  the  Wood,'  nothing  is  omitted  that  belongs  to  the  story.  The 
shoes,  the  little  birds  and  leaves,  are  all  wrought  out  with  the  utmost  truth- 


38 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


fulness,  while  the  touching  pathos  of  the  sleeping  children  is  consistent  and 
exquisite.  But  we  may  safely  assert  that  there  is  not  a  work  in  sculpture, 
ancient  or  modern,  that  surpasses  in  elaboration  the  portrait-bust  of  Mrs. 
Crawford,  executed  in  1846.  Every  attribute  of  the  best  art  is  retained  in 
its  fullest  expression.  Intellectuality,  dignity,  and  womanly  sweetness,  glow 
with  the  artist's  skill.  The  effect  of  the  whole  is  classical,  preserving  in  al- 
most faultless  symmetry  the  minutest  individuality  of  character.  This  is  car- 
ried with  studied  particularity  into  the  laces  and  flowers.  Their  ornate  and 
delicate  tracery  is  so  subdued  as  to  heighten  the  imposing  perfection  of  the 
work.  In  the  entire  range  of  sculptured  portraiture,  it  has  neither  superior 
nor  equal." 

Mr.  Hicks's  portrait  of  George  T.  Trimble,  now  in  the  Board  of  Education 
building ;  of  Pelatiah  Perrit,  now  in  the  Seamen's  Savings-Bank ;  of  ex-Secretary 
Hamilton  Fish  ;  of  Jonathan  Sturgis,  now  in  the  Union  League  Club  gallery ; 
of  Mr.  Van  Dyke,  a  Detroit  lawyer  ;  of  Frank  Palmer,  of  Margaret  Fuller,  of 
R.  M.  Olypkant,  of  Secretary  Evarts,  of  Governor  John  A.  King,  in  the  City 
Hall ;  of  Dr.  Joseph  G.  Cogswell,  the  first  Superintendent  of  the  Astor  Li- 
brary ;  of  Bishop  Beckwith,  of  Georgia ;  of  Dr.  E.  K.  Kane ;  of  Dr.  Frank 
W.  Johnston,  of  the  New  York  Hospital ;  of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  of  Mr. 
William  Cullen  Bryant,  of  Mr.  Gulian  C.  Verplanck,  and  of  Mr.  H.  W.  Long- 
fellow, are  among  bis  best  productions.  To  the  anmial  exbibitions  of  the 
Artists'  Fund  Society,  of  which  be  was  elected  the  president  in  1875,  Mr. 
Hicks  has  contributed  a  number  of  striking  genre  and  figure  pieces  ;  for  exam- 
ple, "A  Pennsylvania  Kitchen,"  "The  Vacant  Chair,"  "The  Garden-Gate," 
"  Autumn  Leaves,"  "  Brittany  Flower-Gb-1,"  "  Reading  George  Eliot,"  "  The 
Morning  Prayer,"  and  "  No  Place  like  Home,"  which  is  engraved  to  accompany 
this  sketch,  and  tells  a  clear  and  pleasing  story.  In  his  pleasant  studio  in  Astor 
Place,  New  York,  which  be  has  occupied  for  more  than  twenty  years,  is  a  life- 
size  portrait  of  Edwin  Booth  as  Iago,  full  of  deviltry,  fire,  and  force.  Mr. 
Hicks  strives  to  reproduce  the  character  of  a  sitter  in  its  highest  and  truest 
condition,  to  become  in  sympathy  with  the  best  phase  of  the  sitter,  and  to 
transcribe  it.  He  has  an  especially  profound  respect  for  three  pictures,  name- 
ly, Raphael's  "  Portrait  of  Julius  II.,"  Raphael's  "  Portrait  of  Csesar  Borgia," 
and  Titian's  "  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,"  in  the  Pitti  Palace  ;  and  in  them  he 


PORTRAIT      OF      GENERAL      MEADE. 
From  a  Painting  by    Thomas  Hicks. 


p.  S8. 


UAURITZ    FREDERICK    EENDRICK    DE    HAAS.  39 

finds  the  embodiment  and  the  vindication  of  the  true  principles  and  methods 
of  portraiture.     The  railroad  disaster  at  Norwalk,  Connecticut,  in  May,  181 
very  nearly  proved  fatal  to  him.     He  and  his  friend  were  two  out  of  tour  per- 
sons saved  from  a  car  containing  forty  passengers. 

The  portrait  of  General  Meade  is  undoubtedly  the  finest  piece  of  charac- 
terization that  the  artist  ever  set  his  name  against;  rich  and  solid  in  color  and 
in  sentiment,  and  managed  so  as  to  make  an  impressive  war-picture.  The 
commander  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  is  standing  on  the  crest  of  a  hill,  on 
the  slope  of  which  his  soldiers  have  spread  their  tents,  while  far  behind  them 
in  the  sunshine  stretches  the  gleaming  plain.  His  left  hand  rests  upon  the 
hilt  of  his  sword,  his  right  hand  grasps  his  belt,  and  his  right  forearm  presses 
his  hat  to  his  side.  His  coat  is  partly  unbuttoned,  and  near  the  opening  thus 
made  hang  his  eye-glasses  from  a  cord  around  his  neck.  The  features  of  the 
face  constitute  a  happy  and  striking  likeness,  and  its  expression  is  nobly 
chosen,  having  in  it  none  of  the  mock-furious  or  pseudo-military,  but  telling 
rather  of  a  sense  of  responsibility — a  "fronting  with  level  eyelids  the  To  Come  " 
— a  self-contained  and  self-centred  soul.  Near  and  just  behind  him  are  half  a 
dozen  of  his  men.  From  the  peak  of  one  of  the  tents  floats  listlessly  the  flag 
of  the  Union.  It  is  a  serious  time  in  the  history  of  the  country  ;  not  the  gla- 
mour of  war,  but  its  stern  realities  are  in  the  artist's  mind.  There,  too,  the 
spectator  is  forced  to  believe,  is  a  vigorous  and  ardent  patriotism,  with  which 
every  pigment  in  the  picture  seems  to  be  aglow.  The  figure  is  manly,  full,  and 
rich,  the  invention  fresh  and  ripe,  and  the  motive  simple  yet  striking.  The 
tints  are  finely  harmonized,  the  handling  is  precise,  and  the  execution  is  carried 
entirely  up  to  the  requirements  of  a  just  and  sensible  realism.  This  work  is 
destined  to  increase  largely  in  value  as  the  years  go  on  ;  already  it  may  be  said 
to  form  an  important  chapter  in  the  pictorial  history  of  the  war.  Mr.  Hicks 
received  a  medal  for  it  at  the  Centennial  Exhibition. 


In  making  a  picture,  Mr.  Mauritz  Frederick  Hendrick  De  Haas,  the 
marine  painter,  first  prepares  a  sketch  with  charcoal  and  chalk  on  tinted 
paper,  in  order  to  get  forms  and  the  general  effect.  Next,  on  the  canvas  itself, 
which  is  slightly  tinted,  he  draws  in  charcoal  the  outlines  of  the  picture,  at 


40  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

the  same  time  often  improving  upon  the  sketch  already  made.  Then  he  sets 
his  palette,  beginning  at  the  right,  with  the  following  pigments,  in  the  order 
now  given  :  vermilion,  the  cadmiums,  Naples  yellow,  yellow  ochre,  gold  ochre, 
sienna,  and  the  blues.  Below  the  blues,  at  the  extreme  left,  are  placed  the 
browns ;  below  the  vermilion  and  the  cadmiums,  at  the  extreme  right,  are 
placed  the  lakes  ;  between  the  browns  and  the  lakes  is  placed  the  white.  He 
likes  a  large  palette  and  plenty  of  room.  The  pigment  of  which  he  uses  the 
most  is  white — for  the  sky  and  water.  Cobalt-bine  comes  next  so  far  as 
quantity  is  concerned.  The  other  pigments  are  applied  in  very  nearly  equal 
amounts.  The  charcoal  outlines  are  next  "  drawn  in  "  with  umber  and  tur- 
pentine, and  are  thus  preserved.  Then  comes  the  painting  proper.  Most  ar- 
tists begin  with  the  sky  first,  but  he  begins  below  the  horizon,  and  lays  in  the 
background  and  foreground  tentatively  and  proximately,  not  finishing  them 
till  afterward.  Next  in  order  is  the  sky.  When  about  half  done  the  picture 
is  put  into  its  frame,  and  "  worked  up "  to  it.  The  most  difficult  part 
of  his  work  is  the  rendering  of  the  sky,  although  many  marine  painters  find 
the  water  the  most  troublesome ;  and  the  most  pleasant  part  of  his  work  is 
the  finishing,  after  the  canvas  has  been  entirely  covered,  and  all  the  parts  have 
been  roughly  put  together.  The  older  he  grows  the  harder  he  finds  it  to 
paint  a  picture.  "  Nothing  is  easier,"  he  remarked,  "  than  to  make  water  look 
thin,  transparent,  and  glassy — thin  and  transparent,  so  that  any  object  would 
drop  through  it  to  the  bottom  ;  glassy,  so  that  the  waves  would  cut  right  into 
a  ship.  The  artist,  however,  gives  you  water  on  which  a  vessel  can  safely 
float — wet  water,  water  with  movement  and  body  to  it.  I  like  nothing 
better  than  to  paint  a  storm." 

Mr.  De  Haas's  style  is  neither  what  is  known  as  the  broad  nor  what  may 
be  called  the  minute.  He  always  tries  to  finish  a  picture  as  far  as  the  impres- 
sion that  he  desires  to  convey  will  allow  ;  but  his  finish  is  rather  in  color  than 
in  lines.  He  believes  in  trying  to  represent  things  as  he  sees  them  in  Nature; 
and  he  cares  nothing  for  book-principles  of  art.  "  I  don't  think,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  that  a  picture  is  ever  done ;  I  may  think  that  I  can't  do  any  more  to 
it — and,  indeed,  I  never  let  a  picture  go  that  I  can  improve ;  but  a  com- 
pleted picture  does  not  exist.  When  I  see  one  of  my  old  pictures,  sometimes 
I  feel  like  changing  it,  and  at  other  times  I  am  surprised  to  see  it  looking  so 


THE     COAST    OF     FRANCE. 
From  a  Painting  by  M.   /•'.  //.   De  Haas. 


p.  40. 


MAURITZ    FREDERICK    EENDRICK    DE    II A  AS.  II 

well.  I  Lave,  and  always  have  had,  a  special  fancy  for  moonlight-scenes;  the 
oftener  I  see  them  the  more  I  am  impressed  by  them.  The  moonlight-scenes 
in  and  near  New  York  are,  I  think,  finer  than  in  any  other  locality,  except  per- 
haps on  the  ocean.  They  are  more  luminous,  more  highly-colored,  and  more 
atmospheric,  than  in  Europe.  The  cloud-scenery  in  the  suburbs  of  New  York 
is  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful  in  the  world. 

"The  great  charm  of  marine  painting,"  he  says,  "  consists  in  the  fact  thai 
every  cloud  of  any  size  affects  the  color-  of  the  water,  so  much  so  that  what 
you  see  is  rather  sky-reflection  than  the  real  color  of  the  water,  except,  of 
course,  in  the  immediate  foreground.  Wind,  "also,  comes  in  and  changes  the 
color.  On  the  surface  of  a  lake,  when  there  is  no  wind  and  no  motion,  the 
sky  is  perfectly  mirrored.  I  have  seen  instances  where  you  could  hardly  tell 
which  was  sky  and  which  was  lake.  The  reflection  was  complete  both  in 
color  and  in  shape.  Since  waves  never  exactly  repeat  themselves,  I  watch  the 
appearance  of  just  such  a  wave  as  I  wish  to  represent,  draw  it  at  once,  and 
take  its  color  from  a  second  wave.  Only  after  long  experience  will  the  draw- 
ing be  successful,  and  even  then  the  correct  aspect  of  a  wave  is  hard  to  get. 
Waves  in  deep  water  have  one  distinctive  aspect,  waves  in  soundings  another, 
waves  along  the  shore  another.  In  mid-ocean,  for  instance,  they  are  rounder 
and  hill-like  ;  near  the  land  they  become  sharp  and  broken  up.  As  for  color, 
in  deep  water  they  are  a  dark,  inky  blue,  difficult  to  describe  because  it  varies 
with  the  appearance  of  the  sky ;  while  toward  soundings  they  become  green- 
ish, and  nearer  the  shore  green,  where  the  coast  is  rocky,  and  yellowish 
where  it  is  sandy.  Waves  in  deep  water  are  always  the  most  difficult  for  me 
to  paint ;  the  motions  of  those  on  the  coast  are  much  more  distinct  and  regu- 
lar." 

Mr.  De  Haas  was  born  in  Rotterdam,  Holland,  in  1832.  His  first  teacher 
in  art  was  the  figure-painter  Spoel.  After  the  regular  course  of  instruction 
in  the  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts  in  his  native  city,  he  became  a  pupil  of 
Roseboom,  the  landscape-painter ;  and  it  was  while  in  the  studio  of  this  artist 
that  he  developed  a  special  fondness  for  marine  painting.  He  went  to  the 
coast  of  Holland  several  times  on  sketching-excursions,  and  in  1851  visited 
London  and  practised  himself  in  the  use  of  water-colors.  The  next  year  he 
made  many  studies  of  the  Channel-coast  of  England,  which  were  received  by 


40  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

Rosebooni  with  appreciation,  and  which  gained  for  the  young  draughtsman  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  the  celebrated  marine  painter  Louis  Meyer,  who  lived 
at  the  Hague.  For  two  years  De  Haas  worked  with  Meyer,  meanwhile  send- 
ing specimens  of  his  skill  to  the  principal  Continental  exhibitions  and  also  to 
England.  One  of  these  specimens  found  a  way  to  the  heart  of  the  Queen  of 
Holland,  who  honored  De  Haas  with  a  substantial  token  of  her  admiration. 
In  1857  he  made  a  trip  in  the  flag-ship  of  a  Dutch  admiral.  Soon  afterward 
he  sent  to  the  Hague  Academy  Exhibition  a  large  picture,  which  had  the 
good  fortune  not  only  to  be  hung  honorably,  but  to  be  bought  by  the  hang- 
ing committee.     The  same  year,  however,  he  set  sail  for  New  York. 

During  the  last  fifteen  years,  Mr.  De  Haas  has  become  well  known 
throughout  this  country,  and  has  won  distinguished  success.  His  marines  are 
in  the  galleries  of  Mr.  Belmont,  Mr.  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  and  Mr.  Charles 
Gould,  of  New  York,  Mr.  William  H.  Stewart,  of  Philadelphia,  and  of  many 
gentlemen  in  Boston,  Chicago,  and  other  cities.  He  became  an  Associate  of 
the  National  Academy  of  Design  in  1863,  and  a  full  member  in  1867.  One 
of  his  conspicuous  works  is  a  representation  of  Admiral  Farragut's  fleet  pass- 
ing the  batteries  and  fortresses  near  New  Orleans. 

"  The  Coast  of  France,"  which  is  engraved,  is  a  typical  representation. 
Mr.  De  Haas  has  painted  scores  of  pictures,  the  composition  of  which  is 
not  at  all  dissimilar.  On  the  right  are  the  chalky  cliffs,  the  stony  shore,  the 
sailing-vessels  stranded  at  low  tide ;  in  the  middle  distance  is  a  row-boat  full 
of  sturdy  watermen,  beyond  whom  stretches  a  smooth  expanse  of  sea,  illu- 
mined by  the  glory  of  the  setting  sun.  The  listless,  lazy  waves  that  creep 
along  the  coast  are  in  a  full  blaze  of  light,  which  beats  against  the  sail  and 
side  of  the  principal  fishing-smack,  and  bathes  the  cliffs  in  a  tender  radiance. 
One  of  the  sailors  has  built  a  fire  on  the  shore,  and  will  soon  welcome  his  fel- 
lows, who  are  approaching  in  the  small  boat.  "  Long  Island  Sound  by  Moon- 
light," also  engraved,  is  more  picturesque.  A  brig,  under  very  nearly  full 
sail,  just  passed  between  the  lighthouse  and  the  shore,  is  cleaving  the  shim- 
mering water  amid  the  refulgence  of  a  moon  that  has  not  yet  begun  to  wane. 
The  sky  is  peculiarly  varied  and  beautiful.  The  position  and  the  rigging  of 
the  vessel  would,  doubtless,  be  satisfactory  to  the  eyes  of  a  sailor ;  the  water 
looks  like  real  water,  and  the  quality  of  the  whole  is  brilliant  and  pure.     So 


LONG      ISLAND      SOUND      BY      MOONLIGHT. 
From  a  Painting  by  M,  /•'.  //.  De  Haas. 


p.  43. 


.1/  .1  U  R  I  TZ    /-'A'  ED  E  RIC  E     II  E  X  D  RIC  K     D  E    II   I  .1  S.  4;> 

far  as  familiarity  with  the  appearance  and  handling  of  a  ship  are  concerned, 
Mr.  De  Haas  has  no  superior  in  the  studios  of  this  country. 

Much  of  his  success  is  due  to  his  taste  in  the  selection  and  arrangement  of 
subjects.  The  walls  of  his  studio  are  decorated  with  multitudinous  studies  of 
gorgeous  sunsets,  mid-ocean  waves,  rock-bound  coasts,  white-crested  breakers, 
stranded  and  swift-sailing  vessels,  and  tender  moonlight  effects,  which  are  in- 
teresting in  themselves,  and  in  what  they  have  to  say  about  the  artist's  indus- 
try and  sensibilities. 

From  a  paper  on  Mr.  De  Haas,  in  a  recent  number  of  Appletons'  Art 
Journal,  the  following  extract  is  taken  in  addition  to  the  several  quotations 
already  made :  "  A  painter  in  any  department  of  art  naturally  magnifies  the 
characteristic  difficulties  of  that  department ;  and  perhaps  it  is  impossible  to 
tell  whether  landscapes  or  figures,  animals  or  marines,  are  the  hardest  subjects 
to  paint.  Mr.  De  Haas,  as  might  have  been  expected,  thinks  that  marines  are 
the  hardest,  and  his  reasons  for  the  opinion  are  fresh  and  bountiful.  A  coast- 
painter,  he  says,  is  only  half  a  marine  painter.  A  marine  painter  is  a  painter 
who  can  paint  mid-ocean  scenes  as  well.  To  do  this  it  is  necessary  that  he 
should  go  to  sea,  and  become  as  familiar  with  the  appearance  and  the  han- 
dling of  a  ship  and  her  rigging  as  a  sailor  is.  He  must  learn  how  to  put  a 
vessel  in  position,  what  sails  to  use  under  different  circumstances,  what  each 
particular  rope  is  for,  how  the  vessel  appears  at  various  times,  how  the  water 
looks,  what  elements  disturb  it,  and  a  thousand  other  things,  a  knowledge  of 
which  can  be  obtained  only  by  going  to  sea.  Mr.  De  Haas's  practice  has  been 
accordant  with  his  theory.  He  has  been  a  sailor  in  the  Dutch  Navy  ;  he  has 
cruised  in  the  English  Channel  in  pilot-boats  and  other  craft ;  he  has  wit- 
nessed a  great  variety  of  noble  sea-scenes,  and  has  preserved  the  noblest  of 
them  in  sketches.  He  has  also  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  he  knows  how  to 
sail  a  ship.  But  a  figure-painter  does  not  need  to  go  out  of  his  studio — he 
can  bring  his  models  into  it.  Mr.  De  Haas  admits  that  it  is  more  difficult  to 
make  drawings  of  the  human  form  in  different  positions  than  to  make  draw- 
ings of  ships  in  different  positions  ;  but  he  thinks  that  if  figure-painters  would 
only  try  marine  painting  they  would  get  a  more  adequate  idea  of  its  demands. 
Wave-drawing,  sky-painting,  and  wave-coloring,  would  open  their  eyes,  even 
if  an  attempt  to  represent  a  ship  did  not.     For  the  sake  of  peace,  however,  he 


44  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

would  concede  to  figure-painting  an  equal  difficulty  with  that  of  marine  paint- 
ing. But  lie  could  not  g:o  further  than  that.  The  fact  that  thei'e  are  so  few 
good  marine  painters  in  this  or  any  other  country  is  perhaps  an  argument  on 
his  side  of  the  fence.  '  People,'  he  said,  '  often  want  an  artist  to  paint  an  im- 
possible picture.  They  go  to  his  studio,  pick  out  a  sketch  that  they  like,  a 
mid-day  coast-scene,  for  instance,  and  ask  him  to  make  a  sunset  or  a  moon- 
light scene  out  of  it.  This  thing  can't  be  done,  of  course ;  but,  if  you  take 
the  trouble  quietly  to  explain  why  it  can't  be  done,  they  will  see  the  reasons 
at  once.  Most  intelligent  persons  sometimes  make  just  such  mistakes,  simply 
because  they  have  not  had  a  special  training.  Very  often  they  wish  a  picture 
painted  from  a  high  point  of  view — a  point  from  which  all  creation  is  visible 
behind  and  before.  A  little  explanation  will  convince  them  that  such  a  rep- 
resentation would  do  for  a  panorama,  but  not  for  a  picture.  I  suppose  that 
every  artist  has  had  such  experiences  in  his  studio.' 

"  Marine  painters,  as  far  as  Mr.  De  Haas's  observation  goes,  make  mistakes 
oftenest  in  the  position  and  in  the  drawing  of  vessels.  These  vessels  are  fre- 
quently represented  in  positions  where  neither  the  wind  nor  the  currents  of 
the  scene  could  ever  have  put  them,  and  are  also  imperfectly  drawn.  Then, 
too,  the  rigging  often  assumes  impossible  aspects.  Many  of  these  faults,  of 
course,  only  a  sailor-critic  could  detect." 


Chaeles  Henry  Miller,  the  landscape-painter,  is  a  native  of  New  York 
City,  where  he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Medicine  in  1863,  when  twen- 
ty-one years  old.  Not  long  afterward,  he  went  to  England  as  surgeon  of  the 
ship  Harvest  Queen.  Already  he  had  exhibited  in  the  National  Academy  a 
picture  called  "The  Challenge  Accepted,"  and  from  boyhood  had  been  an 
enthusiastic  draughtsman.  When,  therefore,  he  found  himself  for  the  first 
time  in  the  galleries  of  the  Old  World,  he  was  prepared  to  be  stimulated  by 
them.  On  returning  home,  he  decided  to  abandon  the  practice  of  medicine, 
and  to  mix  pigments  instead  of  pills.  In  a  short  time  he  went  to  Europe 
again,  visited  London  and  Paris,  and  settled  in  Munich.  His  principal  teacher 
in  the  last-named  city  was  Prof.  Lier,  the  landscape-painter. 

For  three  years  he  studied  there,  making  excursions  meanwhile  to  Paris, 


_^_^^_ 


a 

§ 

w 

^ 

U. 

0 

7. 

S 

a 

"5* 

0. 

m 

<o 

< 

^ 

J 

ga 

J 

-k. 

? 

£J 

^ 

a 

« 

j 

0 

CHARLES    HENRY    MILL  EI;.  4g 

Dresden,  Leipsic,  and  Vienna,  and  seeing  what  was  to  be  seen  in  the  gal- 
leries and  studios  of  these  centres.  He  painted  "  An  Old  Mill  near  Munich" 
and  "Road-side  near  Munich,"  and  sent  them  to  the  New  York  National  Acad- 
emy Exhibition.  Another  Munich  picture  is  the  "  Return  to  the  Fold,"  which 
is  engraved  herewith. 

Back  in  his  native  land  again,  Mr.  Miller  undertook  the  application  of  the 
principles  and  methods  which  he  had  learned  in  Europe  to  the  reproduction 
of  familiar  landscapes  near  New  York  City.  In  1871  he  exhibited  a  tAvilight- 
scene  at  Dachan,  near  the  Bavarian  capital ;  but  the  most  of  his  principal 
works  were  concerned  with  places  on  Long  Island  ;  and  it  was  the  merits  of 
his  "  Long  Island  Homestead  " — a  study  from  Nature — that  caused  him  to  be 
elected  an  Associate  of  the  Academy  in  1874.  The  next  year  he  became  an 
Academician,  having  again  brought  himself  into  very  favorable  notice  by  his 
"High  Bridge  from  Harlem  Lane"  and  his  "Sheep-Washing."  In  1877  he 
was  a  member  of  the  hanging  committee  of  the  Academy,  distinguishing  him- 
self by  giving  some  of  the  best  places  on  the  line  to  the  works  of  his  brother- 
artists,  who  were  studying  in  Munich  or  had  lately  been  there — of  Duveneck, 
Chase,  Shirlaw,  Low,  Macy,  and  others.  That  year  became,  in  consequence,  a 
notable  one  in  the  history  of  the  exhibitions  of  that  institution.  Mr.  Miller 
was  himself  effectively  represented  by  his  large  "  Autumn,"  a  landscape  of 
indisputable  strength. 

It  is  greatly  to  the  credit  of  this  artist  that,  though  he  has  mastered  the 
Munich  methods  in  landscape,  he  has  not  sold  his  birthright  as  an  American. 
One  can  easily  enjoy  many  of  his  works  without  detecting  in  them  a  foreign 
inspiration.  His  "  Old  Mill  at  Springfield,"  for  example,  is  distinctively  a 
domestic  production,  made  at  home  by  a  man  who  felt  at  home  while 
making  it.  So  many  of  our  young  painters,  after  the  incalculable  advantages 
of  a  foreign  training,  have,  on  their  return  to  this  country,  never  exhibited 
anything  equal  to  the  things  wrought  out  by  them  during  their  residence 
abroad,  and  have  reproduced  so  often,  in  their  scheme  of  color,  their  subjects, 
and  their  composition,  the  peculiarities  of  European  masters,  that  the  spectator 
is  surprised  as  well  as  refreshed  to  observe  in  any  one  of  them  the  evidences 
of  originality  in  conception  and  in  treatment.  Mr.  Miller  displays  these  evi- 
dences very  often,  and  invariably  in  each  instance  gets  recognition  and  praise 


46  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

for  doing  so.  He  has  none  of  the  boldness  of  Munkacsy,  for  example,  nor  has 
he  yet  developed  any  grand  style  of  his  own ;  but  he  is  better  off,  probably, 
than  if  he  had.  Setting  himself  to  the  direct  interpretation  of  American  land- 
scapes, he  has  manifested  a  sensitiveness  and  delicacy  of  perception,  a  large- 
ness of  grasp,  an  honesty  and  vitality  of  impulse,  and  a  degree  of  technical 
skill,  which  are  rare  and  admirable.  Extremely  careful,  refined  almost  to  sub- 
tilty,  and  tender,  are  his  renditions  of  every-day  scenes.  He  feels  what  he 
paints,  and  he  loves  it.  What  is  called  "  high  art,"  with  its  ambitions,  and 
conventionalism,  and  impossibilities,  has  no  place  on  his  canvas.  "  We  heard 
two  friends,"  says  a  recent  writer,  "  one  day  standing  before  a  picture,  and  one 
said  to  the  other,  '  Well,  what  is  it  \ '  and  his  friend  answered  him,  '  It's  high 
art,'  and  apparently  the  answer  was  satisfactory.  Now,  this  picture  is  what  is 
called  '  high  art,'  or  an  effort  after  it,  and,  to  our  minds,  it  suggests  the  doubt 
whether  high  art  is  art  at  all.  Here  is  a  picture  treated  according  to  tradi- 
tional rules  of  composition,  with  central  interest,  and  subordinate  groupings, 
and  flowing  lines  and  light-and-shade  arrangement,  carefully  studied,  and 
anatomical  studies  made,  let  us  suppose,  of  each  separate  figure ;  and  then  the 
whole  put  together  and  well  paiuted,  for  it  is  well  painted — and  yet  the  whole 
has  no  power  to  affect  us  in  any  way,  or  to  resemble  anything  we  have  ever 
seen,  or  to  bring  any  scene  before  us  as  it  ought  actually  to  have  hap- 
pened." Now,  Mr.  Miller  confronts  us  directly  with  Nature,  his  methods 
and  means  being  set  aside;  yet  while  we  look  we  are  conscious  of  being 
in  the  hands  of  a  teacher  who  can  show  us  what  otherwise  might  have 
escaped  us. 


Of  Scottish  art.  which  has  produced  some  fine  things  in  this  country, 
James  McDougall  Hart  is  a  highly-creditable  incarnation.  He  was  born  on 
the  10th  of  May,  1828,  in  Kilmarnock,  Ayreshire,  Scotland,  in  the  same  town- 
ship with  Robert  Burns.  When  six  years  of  age  he  came  to  America  with 
his  parents,  who  found  a  home  in  Albany,  New  York.  There  the  painter 
spent  most  of  his  youthful  days.  He  went  to  Europe  in  1852-53,  studied 
in  Diisseldorf  and  Munich,  and  made  a  sketching-tour  along  the  Rhine  and 
in  the  Tyrol,  chiefly  on  foot.     In  1857,  he  moved  to  New  York,  and  for  the 


Q 
J 
0 

u, 

u 
X 
h 

0 
h 

a 
a 

h 
U 
tt 


* 


Q 


S, 


11 


JAMES    MCDOU 0  ALL    HART. 


47 


last  twenty-one  years  has  been  distinguished  there.     Some  of  our  well-known 
artists  have  been  his  pupils. 

These  are  the  principal  external  events  in  one  of  the  most  uneventful  of 
lives.  We  should  not  forget,  however,  to  chronicle  the  facts  that  in  1857  Mr. 
Hart  was  elected  an  Academician,  and  that  a  few  years  after,  on  the  nomina- 
tion of  a  friend  and  patron,  he  became  a  member  of  the  Union  League  Club  in 
New  York  City  He  paid  his  initiation-fee,  kept  away  from  the  institution  a 
year,  and  then  resigned.  He  spends  his  evenings  with  his  family,  and  is  less 
seldom  seen  in  a  public  place  than  any  other  artist  in  New  York.  At  his 
studio  he  can  be  found  from  early  morning  till  early  evening.  His  industry 
is  something  amazing,  while  his  capacity  for  hard  work,  and  plenty  of  it,  is 
unusual.  He  has  the  hearty  manners  of  the  best  type  of  his  countrymen  in 
the  land  of  Burns ;  his  wit  is  fluent  and  spontaneous  ;  his  good-nature  is  the 
same ;  you  would  appeal  to  him  instinctively  in  trouble  if  he  were  near  you, 
and  you  would  trust  him  to  the  last  dollar  you  had  in  the  world.  Some  of 
the  finest  qualities  that  make  a  man  prized  in  social  life  are  to  be  found  in 
James  M.  Hart ;  and  why  he  has  not  been  carried  by  them  into  social  life  is 
inscrutable,  and,  in  many  respects,  to  be  regretted.  He  has  hid  one  of  his 
lights  imder  a  bushel. 

But  let  us  see  the  man  in  his  pictures.  These  consist  chiefly  of  landscapes 
with  cattle.  And  let  us  hear  his  own  words  concerning'  the  motive  of  them  : 
':  I  strive,"  he  remarked  one  day,  "  to  reproduce  in  my  landscapes  the  feeling 
produced  by  the  original  scenes  themselves.  That  is  what  I  try  for — only 
that,  and  just  that.  In  this  painting,  for  instance,"  jwintiug  to  one  near  him, 
"  I  aimed  at  the  lazy,  listless  influence  of  an  Indian-summer  day.  If  the  paint- 
ing were  perfect,  you  would  feel  precisely  as  you  feel  when  contemplating, 
such  a  scene  in  Nature.  In  that  painting,"  indicating  another  one,  "  I  strove 
for  the  effect  of  the  midsummer  color ;  in  the  next  one,  for  the  impression 
made  by  the  autumn  woods  when  you  walk  in  them  and  the  dry  branches 
crackle  under  your  feet.  A  business-man,  while  looking  at  one  of  my  land- 
scapes— it  was  my  '  Under  the  Elms  ' — said  :  '  That  picture  rests  me ;  a  sen- 
sation of  rest  steals  all  over  me  when  I  look  at  it.'  That  is  precisely  what 
I  had  striven  after." 

Here,  then,  are  no  "  symphonies,"  or  "  nocturnes,"  or  "  variations,"  or  "  ar- 


48  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

rangements "  of  color,  and  no  improvements  upon  Nature ;  but  utmost  sim- 
plicity and  singleness  of  purpose  ;  the  attempt  to  make  a  canvas  do  exactly 
what  Nature  does.  This  artist's  art  undertakes  to  act  upon  our  sensibilities 
as  do  real  scenes  of  beauty  in  the  external  world.  If  some  of  these  divert  and 
cheer  us,  so  would  he  have  them  do  in  his  pictures ;  if  some  of  these  rest  and 
quiet  us,  so  would  he  have  them  do  in  his  pictures  ;  if  others  instruct  and  lift 
us  up,  so  would  he  have  them  do  in  his  pictures.  It  has  been  said  of  Millet 
that  he  tried  to  render  all  the  phases  through  which  Nature  passed  :  to  paint, 
not  only  the  impressions  of  the  seasons,  the  atmosphere,  the  temperature,  the 
outer  coverings  of  things — "the  clod  of  earth,  the  tuft  of  heath  in  a  vast  plain, 
the  soil  saturated  by  the  rain,  dead  trees  with  blackened  branches  that  here 
and  there  have  caught  a  flake  of  snow,  yellow  leaves  scattered  over  a  soil 
cracked  from  want  of  rain,  and  covered  with  hoar-frost " — but  also  to  repro- 
duce phenomena  as  intangible  and  occult  as  the  miasma  in  the  air.  With 
Mr.  Hart,  however,  the  purpose  is  simpler  and  the  result  surer.  He  knows  his 
limitations  much  better  than  his  critics  do,  and  wisely  never  ventures  beyond 
them. 

His  first  notable  picture,  which  got  him  an  election  as  Associate  of  the 
Academy  in  1857,  the  year  when  he  came  to  New  York,  was  a  midsummer 
landscape  with  cattle,  and  was  sold  on  the  opening  day  of  the  Academy  Exhi- 
bition to  Mr.  W.  H.  Daly,  of  New  York.  The  next  year  he  exhibited  on  a 
similar  occasion  his  "  Morning  on  Loon  Lake,"  a  fog-effect,  deer  on  the  right  in 
the  water  startled  by  wild-ducks  flying  up — a  subject  at  that  time  novel  and 
striking.  Mr.  Hart  says  that  he  could  not  sell  "  a  deer-picture  "  now  ;  people 
want  from  him  "something  with  cattle  in  it."  In  ex-Governor  E.  D.  Morgan's 
gallery  is  "  A  Summer  Memory  of  Berkshire,"  which  represented  the  artist  at 
the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1878.  The  title  of  this  picture  is,  for  Mr.  Hart,  unu- 
sually poetic,  and  well  describes  the  summer  landscape  in  the  hills  of  Berk- 
shire, Massachusetts.  "  The  Drove  at  the  Ford "  has  found  a  magnificent 
home  in  the  Corcoran  Art-Gallery  at  Washington.  The  sunlight  streams 
through  an  opening  in  the  trees  directly  upon  the  spectator.  "Friends  in 
Stormy  Weather,"  owned  by  Mr.  John  Hoey,  represents  a  bull  protecting  a 
cow  and  calf  on  a  hill-top,  from  which  shoots  up  a  birch-tree.  Mr.  John  II. 
Sherwood  has  his   "  Cows  in   Pasture,"  with  trees,  and   a   warm,  bright  sky. 


> 
E 

h 

a 

D 

3 
0 


u 
I 

t- 

z 

0 

< 

a 

(t 
w 
S 
2 

D 
to 


S 


J.AMES    HCD  OUGALL    HART.  49 

Colonel  Roebling,  the  engineer  of  the  East  River  Bridge,  is  the  possessor  of 
"Coming  out  of  the  Shade,"  cattle  emerging  from  the  edge  of  the  woods  into 
the  sunset  glow;  in  the  foreground  a  pool  in  which  are  reflected  the  white 
legs  of  the  nearest  cow. 

In  1871,  after  painting  his  "  Under  the  Elms,"  now  in  the  possession  of 
Mrs.  Carnochan,  of  New  York,  Mr.  Hart  began  to  feel  the  need  of  a  thorougl 
acquaintance  with  cattle.  He  went  out-doors  and  began  to  study  them.  He 
found  them  worth  studying.  Perhaps  no  artist  in  this  country  better  appre- 
ciates the  nature  and  the  merits  of  oxen,  or  would  better  understand  Mr. 
Hamerton's  enthusiastic  eulogy  of  them  :  "  Who  that  has  seen  these  creatures 
work  can  be  indifferent  to  the  steadfast  grandeur  of  their  nature  ?  They  have 
no  petulance,  no  hurry,  no  nervous  excitability  ;  but  they  will  bear  the  yoke 
upon  their  necks,  and  the  thongs  about  their  horns,  and  push  forward  without 
flinching  from  sunrise  until  dusk.  I  hear,  as  I  write,  the  cry  of  the  ox-drivers 
— incessant,  musical,  monotonous.  I  hear  it,  not  in  imagination,  but  coming 
to  my  open  window  from  the  fields.  The  morning  is  fresh  and  pure,  the 
scene  is  wide  and  fair,  and  the  autumn  sunshine  filters  through  an  expanse  of 
broken,  silvery  cloud.  They  are  ploughing  not  far  off,  with  two  teams  of  six 
oxen  each — white  oxen,  of  the  noble  Charolais  breed,  sleek,  powerful  beasts, 
whose  moving  muscles  show  under  their  skins  like  the  muscles  of  trained  ath- 
letes. The  first  condition  of  success  in  animal-painting  is,  as  the  French  say, 
to  possess  your  animal.  You  cannot  paint  an  animal  in  movement  until  you 
know  him  by  heart ;  you  must  know  his  structure,  the  places  of  his  bones  and 
muscles,  and  the  markings  caused  by  every  change  of  attitude ;  you  must  even 
know  more  than  this  :  the  mind  and  character  of  the  animal  must  be  familiar 
to  you,  and  more  than  familiar — friendly.  The  amount  of  knowledge,  and  of 
gentle,  condescending  sympathy — a  condescension  of  which  only  fine  minds 
are  capable  —  which  is  necessary  to  the  painting  even  of  a  calf,  is  little 
dreamed  of  by  persons  of  exclusively  literary  culture,  who  too  often  conclude 
that,  because  the  calf  himself  has  not  much  intellect  or  information,  it  does 
not  require  much  of  either  to  paint  him.  This  comparison  between  the  intel- 
lect of  the  subject  and  the  intellect  necessary  to  grasp  the  subject,  has  been 
the  cause  of  a  very  curious,  old  illusion.  Figure-painters  have  imagined  that 
because  man  is  a  more  intelligent  animal  than  the  ass — which,  in  exceptional 


50  -I  U  E  B  J  C  A  X    PAINT  E  R  S . 

cases,  is  undoubtedly  true — tlie  painter  who  represents  men  is  superior  in  the 
same  degree  to  the  painter  who  represents  asses.  They  do  not  consider  that 
by  the  mere  fact  of  our  human  nature  we  have  easy  access  to  all  human  na- 
ture that  resembles  our  own  ;  whereas,  to  go  out  of  our  humanity,  so  as  to 
enter  fully  into  the  existence  of  the  inferior  animals,  requires  either  great 
effort  of  imagination,  or  the  most  comprehensive  sympathy.  Children  and 
childish  painters  solve  the  difficulty  in  a  very  simple  way  by  attributing 
human  sentiments  to  animals;  and  as  the  public  easily  enters  into  such  human 
sentiment,  it  applauds  them,  without  too  nicely  considering  how  far  they  have 
studied  the  true  character  of  brutes."  Mr.  Hart,  however,  never  lends  him- 
self to  the  perpetration  of  so  easy  an  untruth.  For  cows  and  oxen  he  has  the 
fullest  sympathy.  Their  thoughts  which  are  not  men's  thoughts,  their  ways 
which  are  not  men's  ways,  and  their  faces  which  do  not  depend  for  interest 
upon  any  human  likeness  or  suggestion,  have  been  the  objects  of  his  studious 
love.  He  says  that  he  likes  cattle  as  well  as  landscapes — and  this,  for  an 
artist  like  him,  is  saying  a  great  deal. 

An  Adirondack  scene,  "  While  yet  the  Wild  Deer  trod  in  Spangling 
Snow,"  in  Mr.  Marshall  O.  Roberts's  gallery,  presents  a  foreground  of  beauti- 
ful deer,  a  high  mountain  in  the  background,  and  a  dense  fog  in  the  centre. 
Colonel  Rush  C.  Hawkins  bought  his  "  In  the  Autumn  Woods,"  which  was  in 
the  Academy  Exhibition  of  1878,  on  the  south  wall  of  the  south  room.  Cat- 
tle coming  home  through  the  trees  are  startled  by  some  slight  thing ;  the 
white  steer  has  thrown  his  head  up ;  above  and  beyond  him  is  a  faint-blue 
sky,  where  fleecy  clouds  show  themselves  through  a  loose  network  of  branches 
and  russet  leaves. 

Almost  all  of  Mr.  Hart's  pictures  are  large,  and  he  makes  but  ten  or 
twelve  of  them  in  a  year.  One  of  his  latest  is  an  expression  of  these  lines 
of  Whittier,  a  poet  in  whom  this  artist  delights : 

"  Through  dust-clouds  rising  thick  and  dun, 
Like  smoke  of  battle  o'er  us, 
Their  white  horns  gleaming  in  the  sun, 
Like  shields  and  spears  before  us." 

The  cattle  are  accompanied  by  a  real  drover's  dog,  and  behind  them  are  two 
drovers  on  horseback.     We  have  engraved  "  A  Summer  Day  on  the  Boquet 


12 


CATTLE     GOING     HOME. 
From  a  Painting  by  James  M.  Hart. 


p.  50. 


• 


JERVIS    M<> ENTER.  51 

River"  and  "Cattle  going  Home."  The  former  is  a  pastoral  scene  in  Essex 
County,  New  York.  Some  cattle,  very  skillfully  grouped,  arc  drinking  or 
standing  in  a  stream,  which  the  heat  and  drought  of  summer  have  very  much 
reduced  ;  beyond  them  lie  or  browse  a  flock  of  sheep,  two  of  which  are  near  a 
scarlet  shawl.  On  one  side  of  the  river  is  a  luxuriant  forest-growth  ;  on  the 
other  side  a  row  of  stately  and  flourishing  elms,  carefully  and  happily  drawn, 
even  to  minute  details.  The  sun  fills  the  scene  with  warmth  and  brightness. 
This  picture  is  in  the  gallery  of  the  late  Mr.  Alexander  T.  Stewart.  The  other 
one,  "  Cattle  going  Home,"  shows  cows  fording  a  brook  in  a  rich  atmosphere 
of  approaching  sunset.  Trees  pleasant  to  see  —  maples,  tamaracks,  white- 
birches,  and  others— decorate  either  bank  of  the  narrow  stream.  The  per- 
spective is  far-reaching  and  excellent,  and  the  colors  of  the  clouds,  through 
which  the  light  is  breaking,  are  many  and  exquisitely  beautiful. 


"  Corot,"  said  Mr.  Jervis  McEntee  one  day,  "  is  incomplete  and  slovenly. 
His  landscapes  are  ghosts  of  landscapes.  They  have  neither  technical  nor 
literary  excellence.  The  '  Orpheus,'  recently  in  the  Cottier  collection  in  New 
York,  while  not  so  unfinished  as  many  other  of  his  works,  did  not  strike  me 
as  anything  noble  or  large.  The  sky,  to  be  sure,  was  of  a  soft,  pleasant  color, 
but  it  was  full  of  dirt — whether  this  was  part  of  the  scheme  or  not  I  don't 
know.  I  believe  that  a  man  can  learn  to  like  anything  in  art.  In  France, 
the  rivalry  is  so  great,  there  is  so  much  competition,  that  the  artists  are  con- 
stantly doing  outre  things,  which  surprise,  or  bewilder,  or  stun.  There  is  no 
longer  any  care  to  record  honest  impressions  of  Nature.  Art  in  that  coun- 
try is  in  a  bad  way.  It  is  feverish  and  diseased.  All  the  Cottier  pictures 
were  specimens  of  incomplete  art.  The  groups  of  Monticelli,  to  be  sure,  were 
interesting  bits  of  color  ;  but  a  picture  should  be  something  more  than  an 
interesting  bit  of  color.  The  thought  is  the  important  matter.  Take  Wil- 
kie's  '  Blind-Man's-Buff,'  for  example  :  I  don't  remember  about  the  color,  but 
the  work  tells  a  charming  story,  and  touches  us  and  moves  us  very  power- 
fully. It  is  the  same  with  Knaus's  paintings.  I  know  there  is  a  boundary- 
line  between  what  art  and  literature  should  express ;  but  people  differ  con- 
cerning where  to  draw  it. 


52  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

"  In  landscape,  certainly,  you  can  tell  a  certain  kind  of  story.  The  days 
and  seasons  in  their  gay  or  solemn  beauty,  in  their  swift  departure,  influence 
you,  impress  you,  awaken  emotions,  convey  teachings.  If  you  can  relate  this 
influence,  you  tell  their  story.  I  don't  care  for  mere  scenery  or  '  views,'  unless 
these  have  some  peculiar  and  distinctive  character,  which  makes  places  that 
at  first  are  not  picturesque  really  picturesque  ;  which  addresses  one's  artistic 
feeling.  I  especially  like  to  walk  when  in  the  country  in  pasture-fields,  where 
the  beautiful  greensward  has  been  cut  into  and  broken  up  by  the  teeth  of 
the  cattle.  Side  by  side  you  see  the  traces  of  what  they  have  eaten  and  the 
beauty  of  what  they  have  not  eaten.  The  sight  touches  you.  If  you  can 
make  it  touch  others  also,  you  are  a  successful  artist.  The  detail,  the  variety, 
the  beauty,  in  a  piece  of  pasture-land  destitute  of  any  striking  object,  are 
always  very  interesting  to  me  ;  and  I  don't  care  for  what  is  known  as  '  a  fine 
view.'  From  my  home  in  the  Catskills  I  can  look  down  a  vista  of  forty  miles, 
a  magnificent  and  commanding  sight.  But  I  have  never  painted  it  ;  nor 
should  I  care  to  paint  it.  What  I  do  like  to  paint  is  my  impression  of  a 
simple  scene  in  Nature.  That  which  has  been  suggested  is  more  interesting 
than  that  which  has  been  copied.  The  copying  that  an  artist  does  should 
appear  in  a  study  rather  than  in  a  picture  proper.  In  all  my  studies  you  will 
see  servile  copying ;  for  example,  in  my  tree-drawings  I  have  produced  every 
little  twig  and  leaf,  and  the  knowledge  so  obtained  is  used  afterward  for  the 
purpose  of  suggesting.  Corot's  trees,  however,  do  not  display  much  knowl- 
edge of  that  sort.  They  look  like  poles  with  cobwebs  wound  around  them. 
They  are  unsubstantial,  not  real. 

"  I  look  upon  a  landscape  as  I  look  upon  a  human  being — its  thoughts,  its 
feelings,  its  moods,  are  what  interest  me  ;  and  to  these  I  try  to  give  expres- 
sion. What  it  says,  and  thinks,  and  experiences,  this  is  the  matter  that  con- 
cerns the  landscape-painter.  All  art  is  based  upon  a  knowledge  of  Nature 
and  a  sympathy  for  her ;  but  in  order  to  represent  her  it  is  not  necessary  to 
make  a  thing  exactly  like  a  thing.  Imitation  is  not  what  we  want,  but  sug- 
gestion, as  I  said  before.  The  most  popular  pictures,  undoubtedly,  are  those 
that  imitate  the  most — those  of  the  Franco-Spanish  school,  for  instance.  I  do 
not  believe  in  art  for  art's  sake,  nor  in  art  for  schemes  of  color,  for  purposes 
of  mere  decoration,  but  in  art  for  the  expression  of  one's  self.     An  artist  cannot 


I'  •' 


0 

z 

z 

X 

o 


s 


JEBVIS    MO  EN  TEE. 


53 


improve  upon  Nature,  but  often  his  recollection  of  a  natural  scene  serves  him 
better  than  a  labored  study  of  it  made  on  the  spot.  Perhaps  this  is  why- 
Ian  tl scape-painters  who  have  lived  exclusively  in  the  country  are  not  apt  to 
paint  so  well  as  when  they  get  away  from  it.  A  good  deal  of  untrained  art 
is  more  valuable  than  the  trained. 

.  "Some  people  call  my  landscapes  gloomy  and  disagreeable.  They  say  that 
I  paint  the  sorrowful  side  of  Nature,  that  I  am  attracted  by  the  shadows  more 
than  by  the  sunshine.  But  this  is  a  mistake.  I  would  not  reproduce  a  Late 
November  scene  if  it  saddened  me  or  seemed  sad  to  me.  In  that  season  of 
the  year  Nature  is  not  sad  to  me,  but  quiet,  pensive,  restful.  She  is  not  dying, 
but  resting.  Mere  sadness,  unless  it  had  the  dramatic  element  in  it,  I  would 
not  attempt  to  paint." 

Jervis  McEntee  was  born  in  Rondout,  Ulster  County,  New  York,  on  the 
14th  of  July,  1828.  The  place  is  situated  picturesquely  on  the  west  bank 
of  the  Hudson  River,  just  within  the  shadows  of  the  Catskill  Mountains,  and 
is  still  his  country  home.  In  the  winter  of  1850-51  he  became  the  ptipil 
of  Mr.  Frederick  E.  Church,  in  New  York.  Four  years  afterward,  having 
spent  the  intervening  period  in  diligent  study  in  city  and  in  suburb,  he 
opened  a  studio  in  New  York,  and  was  welcomed  cordially  by  the  brother- 
hood of  the  profession  and  by  the  principal  patrons  of  American  art.  In 
the  summer  of  1859,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Sanford  R.  Gifford,  he  visited  Eu- 
rope, examining  the  works  of  the  old  masters  in  the  chief  galleries,  but  lin- 
gering the  longest  among  the  glories  of  the  Alps — those  glories  of  color,  of 
light,  and  of  shadow,  which  exerted  so  powerful  an  influence  upon  the  unfold- 
ing genius  of  the  youthful  Titian.  He  did  not  stay  away  long.  The  lapse  of 
a  few  months  saw  him  back  again  in  his  own  studio,  his  impressions  of  the 
home-scenes,  which  had  taken  strong  hold  of  him,  remaining  intact  side  by 
side  with  those  of  the  magnificence  and  splendor  of  Switzerland.  A  portfolio 
of  sketches  made  in  that  country  and  in  Italy  came  back  with  him. 

In  the  Academy  Exhibition  of  1861  he  was  represented  by  an  autumn 
scene,  the  object  of  which  was  to  give  pictorial  expression  to  the  sentiment  of 
Mr.  Bryant's  poem,  "  The  Death  of  the  Flowers  :  " 

"  The  melancholy  days  have  come,  the  saddest  of  the  year, 
Of  wailing  winds,  and  naked  woods,  and  meadows  brown  and  sere  ; 


54  AMEBIC  AX    PAINTERS. 

Heaped  in  the  hollows  of  the  grove  the  autumn  leaves  lie  dead, 
They  rustle  to  the  eddying  gust,  and  to  the  rabbit's  tread  ; 
The   robin  and  the  wren  are  flown,  and  from  the  shrubs  the  jay, 
And  from  the  wood-top  calls  the  crow  through  all  the  gloomy  day. 
The  south  wind  searches  for  the  flowers  whose  fragrance  late  he  bore, 
And  sighs  to  find  them  in  the  wood  and  by  the  stream  no  more." 

The  picture,  which  bore  the  title  "  Melancholy  Day,"  was  bought  while  in  the 
exhibition  by  the  late  artist  James  A.  Suydara,  and  bequeathed  by  him  to 
the  Council  of  the  Academy.  Its  excellence  attracted  very  general  recogni- 
tion, and  its  author  was  elected  an  Academician.  It  was  followed  by  a  series 
of  somewhat  similar  representations :  by  "  October  in  the  Catskills,"  "  Late 
Autumn,"  "An  Autumn  Afternoon,"  "An  Autumn  Morning,"  and  others,  in 
which  Mr.  McEntee  strove  to  apply  the  principles  already  stated,  es£>ecially  to 
express  the  influence  that  these  autumn  days  on  the  mountain  or  in  the  forest 
had  exerted  upon  his  feelings.  The  name  "  Melancholy  Day,"  given  to  his 
first  principal  work,  seems  to  indicate  that  in  his  earlier  artistic  life  he  did 
like  to  paint  sadness  and  the  dying  year.  Of  late  his  musings  have  taken 
color  from  divine  philosophy,  and,  where  once  he  saw  melancholy  on  an 
autumn  day,  he  now  sees  peace  and  rest. 

To  the  Royal  Academy  Exhibition  in  London  in  1872  Mr.  McEntee  con- 
tributed a  small  landscape,  which  was  not  overlooked  by  the  critic  of  the 
London  Times.  "  A  new  name,  Jervis  McEntee,"  wrote  that  person,  "  at- 
tached to  a  landscape  of  unpretending  and  rare  quality,  '  November,'  with  the 
appropriate  line — 

'  Shade  deepening  over  shade  the  country  round  embrowns,' 

is,  we  understand,  American.  The  picture  shows,  what  is  so  rare,  an  imagina- 
tive feeling  of  the  subject — a  scene  of  low  hills  with  a  foreground  of  scrubby 
woodland,  its  winter  suit  of  brown  here  and  there  enlivened,  but  very  spar- 
ingly, with  a  touch  of  autumnal  scarlet  and  gold,  and  an  horizon  of  higher  hills 
of  sombre  indigo.  The  picture  is  too  low  in  tone  and  too  sombre  in  senti- 
ment to  attract  much  attention  ;  but  it  deserves  and  will  reward  study,  and 
affixes  a  niark  in  the  memory  to  the  artist's  name."  "  Too  low  in  tone  and  too 
sombre  in  sentiment  to  attract  much  attention  "  in  England  half  a  dozen  years 


1 


f,», 


■bib 


-m, 


m     tjI 


\ 


M 


,pi,  I 


z 
g 
35 

E 
U 
0 

z 

0 

w 

I 

h 


<*) 


s 


!  ,j-  llll/i:!  - 1! !  1!  ■ !  ■ :'  ■         !  i:  !■  " 


JER  VIS     l/'  EN  TEE. 


55 


ago,  be  meant.  But  what  would  some  of  the  modem  French  critics  say  to 
such  an  utterance  as  that  % 

The  Italian  studies  and  sketches  made  by  Mr.  McEntee  during  his  visit  to 
Europe  have  not  often  been  elaborated  and  exhibited  by  the  artist.  On  one 
occasion,  his  "Scene  on  the  Via  Appia,  near  Rome,"  was  hung  in  the  gallery 
of  the  Century  Club,  of  which  he  is  a  member;  but  the  most  of  his  pictures 
are  records  of  his  impressions  of  American  scenery  in  the  time  of  the  sere  and 
yellow  leaf,  the  snow,  the  ice,  and  the  leaden  sky.  The  "Autumn  Morning" 
which  we  have  engraved,  is  a  representative  example  of  the  brighter  aspects 
of  his  theme.  It  is  an  autumn  morning,  to  be  sure,  but  the  distant  mountain 
is  robed  in  warm  sunlight,  the  clouds  are  fleecy,  fair,  and  tinged  here  and 
there  with  crimson,  which  repeats  the  tints  of  the  trees  in  the  left  foreground, 
and  of  the  bushes  near  them.  Nature  certainly  is  not  dying — she  is  smiling 
and  resting.  "  The  Danger-Signal,"  a  train  of  cars  rounding  a  curve  at  night 
in  a  driving  snow-storm,  is  later  autumn.  Across  the  track  and  the  moor  the 
snow  lies  in  wave-like  drifts  in  the  full  glare  of  the  white  light  of  the  locomo- 
tive. The  red  lantern  of  the  watchman  is  swung  high  above  his  head,  but 
the  locomotive  is  thundering  along  like  the  one  in  Turner's  celebrated  picture 
in  the  London  National  Gallery. 

Concerning  a  small  landscape,  "  October,"  in  the  American  Water-Color 
Society's  Exhibition  of  1877,  the  present  writer  had  occasion  to  say:  "The 
beauty  of  Mr.  Jervis  McEntee's  landscape  is,  to  a  large  extent,  projected  upon 
the  canvas  by  the  intelligence  that  discerns  it ;  and  in  the  case  of  his  produc- 
tion, as  perhaps  in  that  of  no  other  artist  represented  in  the  collection,  is  it  true 
that  the  proper  appreciation  of  a  work  of  art  comes  not  from  intuition  but 
from  serious  and  instructed  study.  A  placid  surface  of  water,  a  bit  of  whitish- 
gray  beach,  some  trees,  and  some  fleecy  clouds — these  may  be  said  to  constitute 
the  picture,  but  only  in  the  sense  that  clay  constitutes  a  portrait-bust.  There 
are  scores  of  pictures  in  the  exhibition  with  all  these  constituents,  and  they 
attract  nobody.  Nor  would  one  trouble  himself  to  go  far  to  look  simply  at  a 
placid  surface  of  water,  a  bit  of  whitish-gray  beach,  some  trees,  and  some 
fleecy  clouds.  With  Mr.  McEntee  the  idea,  the  sentiment,  is  everything,  and 
he  subordinates  all  other  matters  to  the  expression  of  it.  Take  his  '  A  Nip- 
ping and  an  Eager  Air,'  for  example,  in  the  north-room.     What  does  he  care 


56  AMERICAN     PA  I X  TEES. 

about  the  nature  of  the  material  of  which  the  man's  trousers  are  made,  about 
the  kind  of  gun  the  man  carries,  about  the  botanical  names  of  the  trees  or  the 
shrubs  around  the  man  ?  He  is  seeking  something  else,  and  that  something 
is  the  expression  of  the  coldness  of  the  weather.  Whatever  is  not  of  service 
to  the  interpretation  of  this  idea  he  ignores  and  rejects.  He  is  not  painting  a 
fashion-plate,  like  Willems,  nor  a  favorite  dog,  like  Landseer,  nor  an  illustra- 
tion for  a  hardware-dealer's  catalogue,  like  Leloir,  nor  a  bouquet  in  which  you 
shall  designate  the  name  of  every  flower,  like  Robie.  So,  in  this  '  October ' 
in  the  east-room,  it  is  not  water  nor  beach  nor  trees  nor  clouds  that  he  is 
attempting — it  is  the  most  delightful  month  in  the  most  delightful  season  of 
the  year.  And  this  month  is  really  represented.  You  are  out-of-doors  in  the 
country,  and  you  feel  yourself  out-of-doors,  and  the  beginning  coolness  sur- 
rounds you,  and  the  tints  of  the  foliage  greet  you,  and  the  skies  of  the  sunny, 
shortening  day  bend  over  you,  and  the  compliments  of  the  season  are  offered 
you — nay,  not  the  compliments  only,  but  the  teachings  and  the  inspiration. 
This  is  no  pictured  scene,  but  Nature  herself,  hushed,  sweet,  and  mystical. 
At  the  same  time  the  mechanism  of  art  is  here  also,  and  one  may  look  long 
without  tiring  of  the  technical  dexterity,  the  sylvan  repose,  the  clear,  far- 
reaching  perspective,  the  color  and  the  symmetry,  the  contrasts  and  the  har- 
mony, the  finish  and  the  truth." 


Mr.  William  H.  Beard  was  born  in  Painesville,  Ohio,  April  13,  1825. 
After  painting  some  portraits  in  his  native  town  and  in  the  neighboring  towns, 
he  went,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five  years,  to  Buffalo,  which,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Cleveland,  was  the  nearest  large  city  to  Painesville.  After  a  residence 
of  six  or  eight  years  in  Buffalo,  he  made  the  European  tour,  studying  one 
summer  at  Diisseldorf,  and  visiting  Paris,  Switzerland,  and  Rome.  About 
the  year  1861  he  came  to  New  York,  and  for  the  last  twelve  years  has  occu- 
pied his  present  studio  in  the  Tenth  Street  Building.  Mr.  Beard  is  most 
widely  known  as  a  humorous  painter  of  bears  and  monkeys.  His  picture, 
recently  sold  in  the  Latham  collection  in  New  York,  and  entitled  "  The  Runa- 
way Match,"  is. a  very  adequate  representative  of  his  most  popular  style.  The 
runaways  are  a  pair  of  monkeys  dressed  gaudily,  after  the  fashion  of  some 


Q 

z      s 


$ 


'  :':;  '        '       '  J 


WILLIAM     n.     HEARD.  ;)7 

country-folk,  and  standing  before  a  monkey-parson,  who  is  making  an  inspec- 
tion of  them,  in  the  presence  of  several  monkey-witnesses  similar])  attired, 
before  forging  the  matrimonial  bonds.  In  this  picture,  as  in  most  of  his  live- 
lier works,  his  design  is  to  express  character  by  the  use  of  satire  rather  than 
of  caricature;  and  in  all  his  pictures  he  attains  this  end  by  telling  a  story. 
The  literary  instinct  predominates,  as  indeed  it  usually  does  in  American  and 
in  English  figure-painting.  When  you  look  at  one  of  Beard's  representations 
you  occupy  yourself  in  reading  what  he  has  narrated  ;  and  so  good  is  liis  com- 
mand of  the  pictorial  syntax  and  vocabulary  that  his  meaning  is  always  clear. 
Cruikshank  himself  is  not  more  easily  understood.  The  subject  is  the  firsl 
thing  aud  the  chief  thing.  Perfection  of  materials  and  of  methods,  subtile 
harmonies  of  forms,  movements,  and  hues,  combinations  and  contrasts  of  lines 
aud  of  color,  the  poetry  of  pigment  and  the  mechanism  of  finish,  are  not  at 
all  what  he  thinks  most  of.  The  thought  is  his  great  concern  ;  the  vehicle  of 
the  thought  is  of  secondary  importance. 

Successful  and  many  as  are  his  pictures  of  bears  and  of  monkeys,  they  are, 
however,  to  Mr.  Beard  himself,  by  no  means  his  most  satisfactory  works.  He 
feels  happiest  when  dealing  with  themes  like  "Old  King  Cole,"  "  Four-am  1- 
Twenty  Blackbirds,"  aud  other  familiar  nursery-rhymes,  where  the  imagi- 
nation has  an  easy  chance  to  give  a  fantastic  turn  to  ideas,  thereby  exciting 
merriment  and,  perhaps,  laughter.  "Those  nursery-rhymes,"  I  once  heard 
him  say,  "  offer  such  excellent  opportunities  for  pictures ; "  and  so  they  do, 
especially  to  a  painter  whose  playfulness  takes  the  form  of  humor  rather  than 
of  wit,  aud  whose  liking  is  to  make  men  ashamed  of  their  folly,  rather  than  to 
sting  them  into  resentment.  But  Mr.  Beard  is  serious  as  well  as  amusing, 
and  his  ripest  ambition  is  embodied  in  certain  sketches  which,  though  not  yet 
translated  into  finished  pictures,  undoubtedly  soon  will  be.  "The  Star  of 
Bethlehem  "  is  one  of  these  sketches,  and  consists  of  a  group  of  scenes  in- 
tended to  illustrate  the  beneficent  mission  of  Christianity,  which  sheds  its 
cheering  rays  upon  the  wise  men  and  the  castaways  ;  the  toilers  on  the  moun- 
tain aud  the  peasants  in  the  cottage  ;  the  martyr  and  the  prisoner ;  infancy 
and  old  age.  Here  the  thought  conveyed  is  of  the  noblest  possible  descrip- 
tion ;  the  feeling  is  sincere  and  sympathetic,  and  the  constructive  imagination 
is  in  lively  operation.     The  subject  of  another  sketch  is  "  The  End  of  Time,-' 


58  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

Death  carrying  off  Time  in  Lis  arms,  amid  the  crash  and  destruction  of  all 
things.  The  artist  proposes  to  model  these  figures  in  clay,  life-size.  Like 
Leighton,  the  Englishman,  and  Lore,  the  Frenchman,  he  has  a  penchant  for 
sculpture ;  and  certainly  it  is  easier  for  a  painter  to  become  a  sculptor  than 
for  a  sculptor  to  become  a  painter. 

Some  years  ago  Mr.  James  Lick,  of  California,  invited  contributions  of 
designs  for  a  grand  historical  monument  cornineinorative  of  the  growth  and 
the  glory  of  that  Commonwealth.  His  death,  however,  prevented  him  from 
accepting  any  one  of  the  designs  prepared  in  response  to  the  invitation.  Mr. 
Beard  was  one  of  the  competitors,  and  the  rough  draught  of  a  model  for  such 
a  monument  is  now  in  his  studio.  A  colossal  figure  representing  California  is 
seated  upon  a  pedestal,  at  the  base  of  which  are  wild  animals  and  the  pio- 
neer ;  above  them,  Painting,  Poetry,  and  the  other  Fine  Arts ;  while  still  high- 
er, at  the  feet  of  the  colossal  figure,  stands  Science.  A  more  important  work 
is  a  design  for  a  subterranean  entrance  to  the  Museum  of  Art  in  the  Central 
Park,  which  was  prepared  in  1871.  It  is  a  series  of  very  elaborate  and  pict- 
urescpie  allegorical  representations,  which  he  purposed  should  be  carved  in 
the  solid  rock.  These  are  some  of  the  things  that  Mr.  Beard's  pencil  has 
done,  and  they  are  precisely  the  sort  of  things  that  he  would  be  most  happy  to 
carry  into  execution.  His  bears  and  his  monkeys  do  not  please  him  so  well  as 
his  patrons ;  they  certainly  do  not  begin  to  exhaust  his  resources.  The  beauty 
of  art  is  said  to  lie  in  not  being  susceptible  of  improvement ;  but  Mr.  Beard's 
literary  instinct  leads  him  to  magnify  the  importance  of  his  subject,  and  to 
yearn  for  grandeur  therein,  though  he  knows  well  enough  that  every  building 
need  not  be  a  tenrple,  nor  every  poet  a  Milton  ;  that  simplest  objects  are  often 
more  impressive  than  the  most  complex  ones,  when  a  true  man,  well  ecpxipped, 
tells  us  his  impression  of  them. 

"  Lo,  the  Poor  Indian  !  "  presents  Mr.  Beard  from  still  another  point  of 
view.  The  red-man  is  reclining  on  a  hill-side,  his  faithful  dog  by  his  side, 
and  his  eyes  peering  eagerly  across  the  prairie,  over  which  the  wind  is  blow- 
ing fiercely.  There  is  but  little  foreground — as  little  as  possible — the  general 
tone  is  gray,  aud  the  sentiment  is  concentrated  and  intense.  It  is  not  General 
Sheridan's  Indian,  nor  yet  the  missionary  Eliot's.  It  is  the  lonely,  pictu- 
resque Indian,  whom  our  forefathers  dispossessed  of  his  hunting-grounds,  and 


THE     MARCH     OF     SILENUS. 

From  n  Painting  by    William  II    i:  at  ■' 


p.  59. 


WILLI  A  U     If.     BE  J  /,■/>.  ;g 

whom  our  philanthropists  idealize  and  consecrate.  He  is  ,i  very  nice  person 
and  very  interesting — Lo,  the  poor  Indian  !  "  The  March  of  Silenus  "  is  one 
of  Mr.  Beard's  characteristic  pictures.  Silenus  is  a  great,  fat,  drunken  grizzly 
bear,  followed  by  goats  as  satyrs,  and  other  bears  as  bacchanalians,  all  of 
them  treated  in  classic  style  with  a  rich,  warm  tone.  The  expressions  <>f  t In- 
several  faces  are  worth  noticing,  and  the  sense  of  inebriated  revelry  is  strong 
and  single.  The  conception  has  real  dramatic  force.  To  one  of  the  Union 
League  Club's  monthly  exhibitions,  and  also  to  the  New  Fork  Academy 
Exhibition  for  1878,  Mr.  Beard  sent  his  "  Who-o !  who-o-o  !  "  a  semicircular 
group  of  rabbits  staring  at  an  owl  seated  on  a  limb  above  them.  It  is  freely 
and  deftly  painted,  the  rabbits  especially  being  full  of  life,  action,  and  distinc- 
tive character.  His  "  Cattle  upon  a  Thousand  Hills  "  is  a  rolling  prairie  with 
great  herds  of  beasts,  and  a  finely  delicate  play  of  light  and  shade.  His 
"Fallen  Landmark"  is  a  study  of  a  giant  birch,  by  the  side  of  which  in  the 
sunlight  stands  an  aged  Indian  in  a  contemplative  mood.  This  painting  and 
"The  March  of  Silenus"  are  owned  by  the  Buffalo  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts. 
"The  Wreckers"  is  a  number  of  crows  on  an  old  spar  just  washed  ashore  in 
a  white  fog.  Other  works  are  "  The  Traveled  Fox,"  who  got  his  tail  cut  off 
by  accident,  and  has  returned  to  persuade  his  comrades  to  a  similar  course ; 
"  The  Consultation,"  a  bear-scene,  engraved  by  Holyer,  and  "  The  Dancing 
Bears."  Mr.  Beard  is  now  preparing  a  book  of  drawings  designed  to  suit  the 
peculiar  vein  of  each  celebrated  American  poet,  and  to  be  accompanied  by 
original  poems  written  expressly  by  the  several  authors  represented. 

Next,  therefore,  to  the  fact  of  his  humor,  the  most  conspicuous  feature  of 
his  career  is  the  breadth  of  its  scope.  He  is  a  figure-painter,  a  portrait-painter, 
a  genre  painter,  a  landscape-painter,  an  animal-painter,  and,  for  aught  we 
know  to  the  contrary,  a  marine  painter.  He  paints  woodlands,  meadows,  and 
rivers ;  monkeys,  bears,  sheep,  deer,  and  rabbits ;  men,  women,  and  sunburned 
boys  and  girls  ;  parlors,  kitchens,  and  bar-rooms ;  marriages,  picnics,  and  the 
final  destruction  of  the  universe.  There  is  not  an  American,  living  or  dead, 
who  has  transferred  to  canvas  scenes  so  widely  different ;  and  the  possibilities 
of  his  future  are  incapable  of  being  soundly  estimated  even  by  himself.  To- 
morrow morning  he  is  quite  as  likely  to  make  the  preliminary  sketch  of  a 
picture  representing  the  beast  in  the  book  of  Revelation,  Jonah  in  the  whale's 


60  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

belly,  the  white-armed  Juno,  or  the  fierce  wrath  of  the  Olympian  celestials,  as 
to  set  about  telling  another  monkey  or  bear  story.  If  the  thought  should 
strike  him,  he  would  not  hesitate  a  moment  to  make  a  crayon-drawing  of  the 
earth  when  it  was  without  form  and  void.  Nor  would  the  brain  that  could 
conceive  "  The  End  of  Time  "  be  staggered  by  the  beginning  of  eternity. 

Mr.  Beard's  popular  reputation  rests  undoubtedly  upon  his  animal  pict- 
ures, especially  upon  his  delineations  of  the  domestic  life  of  monkeys  and 
bears.  Can  it  be  compared  with  Landseer's  ?  In  some  respects,  undoubted- 
ly it  can  be.  If  Landseer  was  often  dramatic ;  if  on  many  occasions  he  abused 
his  dramatic  gift,  jumping  into  tragedy  when  melodrama  was  on  the  boards, 
or  into  farce  when  comedy  would  have  been  better ;  if  he  loved  the  beasts 
that  he  painted,  and  sympathized  with  them ;  and  if  he  was  sometimes  too 
good  a  story-teller,  displacing  the  artistic  with  the  literary,  and  invading  the 
domain  of  the  penman — all  this  may  be  truly  said  concerning  William  H. 
Beard.  Each  of  these  artists  has  fallen  into  the  error  of  ascribing  human 
emotions  and  thoughts  to  animals,  when  a  profounder  study  would  have 
shown  them  that  a  dog's  ways  are  not  a  man's  ways.  In  manual  dexterity, 
Landseer,  of  course,  has  the  precedence.  Perhaps  there  never  lived  an  animal- 
painter  who  in  this  particular  excelled  him. 


Mr.  William  T.  Richards  was  born  in  Philadelphia  on  the  14th  of 
November,  1833.  During  the  earlier  years  of  his  career  he  received  some 
instruction  from  Paul  Weber,  a  German  artist  of  repute,  who  has  since  re- 
turned to  his  native  country.  One  of  Mr.  Richards's  first  pictures  was  a  view 
of  Mount  Vernon,  painted  in  1854,  for  the  Art  Union  of  Philadelphia.  The 
next  year  he  went  to  Europe,  and  spent  twelve  months  in  Florence,  Paris. 
Dusseldorf,  and  the  Tuscan  Apennines.  He  is  a  pre-Raphaelite,  and  his  stud- 
ies proper  were  begun  on  his  return  from  this  trip  in  1858,  he  having  been 
moved  to  them,  he  modestly  says,  by  a  growing  conviction  of  his  need  of  a 
painstaking  and  protracted  study  of  Nature.  When  he  was  once  on  the  new 
path,  he  continued  there  for  many  years.  In  1859  he  painted  for  Mr.  William 
T.  Walters,  of  Baltimore,  his  "  Tulip-Trees  ;  "  in  1861,  for  the  late  Mr.  Hugh 
Davids,  his  "  Wood-Scene ; "  soon  afterward,  for  the  late  Mr.  William  T.  Blod- 


WILLIAM    T.     RICHARDS.  61 

gett,  of  New  York,  his  "Midsummer;"  and  in  1864,  for  Mr.  Robert  L.  Stuart 
of  the  same  city,  his  "June  Woods."  For  Mr.  George  Whitney,  of  Philadel- 
phia, he  produced  two  of  his  most  important  landscapes,  namely,  "  The  For- 
est" and  "The  Wissahickon."  These  works,  perhaps,  best  represent  the  tri- 
umphs of  his  early  pre-Raphaelistic  methods  and  aspirations. 

What  is  pre-Raphaelitism  ?  Let  us  go  not  to  Mr.  Ruskin  but  to  M. 
Charles  Blanc  for  an  answer;  and  let  us  find  it  in  the  hitter's  description  of 
the  "  Ophelia "  of  Mr.  Millais,  of  London,  whom  M.  Blanc  calls  the  pre- 
Raphaelite  par  excellence :  "  The  young  girl,"  says  the  French  critic,  "  who, 
in  her  madness,  trusted  herself  to  the  treacherous  stream,  is  represented  as 
already  drowned,  in  a  profusion  of  agreeable  details,  depicted  with  the  pa- 
tience of  a  Benedictine  monk,  and  a  realism  a  hundred  times  more  faithful 
than  that  of  our  foremost  realists.  Not  a  leaf  is  wanting  to  the  willow,  not  a 
reed  to  the  bank.  Cresses,  water-lilies,  iris,  sweet-brier,  myosotis,  and  I  know 
not  what  more  besides,  distract  and  charm  the  attention,  which  is  now  fixed 
upon  and  now  distributed  amid  a  wonderful  confusion  of  marine  plants  and 
flowers ;  the  convolvulus  is  a  setting  for  the  poppy  in  the  necklace  of  a  crazy 
nymph  —  a  contrast  repeated  by  a  robin-redbreast  and  a  blue-winged  king- 
fisher. Everything  has  been  told  us  by  the  painter ;  the  least  bit  of  straw, 
the  smallest  blade  of  grass,  the  daisies  and  the  buttercups  which  the  poor 
girl  still  grasps,  the  moisture  of  her  hair,  the  teeth  behind  her  smiling  lips, 
her  linen  puffed  out  by  the  water,  her  petticoats  drenched  and  limp,  the  laces 
floating  on  top  of  them."  Shall  we  say  with  M.  Blanc  that  all  this  is  a  mis- 
take ;  that  Art  should  not  enter  into  competition  with  Nature,  because  it  can- 
not compete  with  her ;  that  Art  has  nobler  ends  than  mere  illusions ;  and,  with 
Sir  Joshua,  that,  because  a  man  can  paint  a  cat  so  cleverly  that  you  can  take 
the  animal  in  your  hands  is  no  reason  for  comparing  him  to  Raphael  and 
Michael  Angelo  ?  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  shall  we  say  with  M.  Petroz,  that 
the  realists  are  the  true  artists,  that  future  progress  is  with  them,  that  their 
notion  of  art  is  the  correct  one,  and  that  all  they  need  is  to  carry  out  that 
notion  to  its  farthest  limits  ?  Mr.  Richards,  certainly,  is  a  disciple  of  the 
latter  master ;  he  would  disdain  to  paint  anything  that  he  himself  had  not 
seen  or  touched,  or  to  paint  it  less  faithfully,  to  imitate  it  less  closely,  than 
was  possible.     Had  he  been  an  English  student  twenty  years  ago  he  would 


62  I  -'/  E  RIG  A  X    /' . I  INTER  S. 

have  been  as  enthusiastic  and  ardent  a  Ruskinian  as  Holman  Hunt  himself. 
"So  carefully  finished,"  says  one  of  his  reviewers,  many  years  ago,  "  are  his 
leaves,  grasses,  grain-stalks,  weeds,  stones,  and  flowers,  that  we  seem  not  to 
be  looking  at  a  distant  prospect,  but  lying  on  the  ground,  with  the  herbage 
and  blossoms  directly  under  our  eyes.  Marvelous  in  accurate  imitation  are 
the  separate  objects  in  the  foreground  of  his  pictures :  the  golden-rod  seems 
to  wave,  and  the  blackberry  to  glisten.'' 

To  marine  painting,  of  late  years,  Mr.  Eichards's  attention  has  been  espe- 
cially directed,  and  he  makes  now  the  best  drawings  of  waves  that  this  coun- 
try can  produce.  The  sea-shore  has  been  his  home.  In  1865  he  spent  the 
summer  at  Nantucket,  and  painted  some  remarkable  works — remarkable  for 
their  loving  and  elaborate  reproduction  of  surf,  breaker,  wave,  and  sand.  In 
1866  he  went  again  to  Europe,  this  time  to  perfect  himself  in  the  execution  of 
coast-scenes.  He  studied  the  canvases  in  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1867  with 
renewed  avidity ;  and  when,  in  the  autumn  of  that  year,  he  returned  home,  he 
was  better  equipped  and  more  successful  than  any  other  American  marine 
painter.  The  summer  of  1870  he  passed  at  Atlantic  City,  New  Jersey;  and 
every  summer  since  he  has  devoted  to  sketching  by  the  sea.  The  fine  atmos- 
phere and  surf  of  Newport  have  recently  attracted  him  with  peculiar  force, 
and  he  now  owns  there  a  cottage  by  the  ocean.  His  maturest  Avork  has  un- 
doubtedly been  that  in  which  he  has  attempted  the  presentation  of  scenes  at 
and  near  that  beautiful  place  ;  and  his  "  Mid-Ocean,"  now  owned  by  Mi'.  Wil- 
liam Sellers,  of  Philadelphia,  and  his  "  New  England  Coast,"  in  the  gallery  of 
Mr.  G.  P.  Wetmore,  of  New  York,  would  be  creditable  accessions  to  any  col- 
lection of  American  marines.  Mr.  Richards  has  been  for  many  years  a  regu- 
lar contributor  to  the  National  Academy  Exhibition  in  New  York,  and  also  to 
the  American  Water-Color  Society.  His  love  of  finish  is  so  strong  that  even 
the  water-colors  he  exhibits  are  not  sketches,  but  whole  pictures.  If  Ameri- 
can art  in  water-colors  has  been  charged  with  resembling  English  art  in  water- 
colors,  of  which  some  writer  has  said :  "  It  is  an  art  which  proposes  the  mak- 
ing of  pictures  as  its  raison  d'etre,  and  looks  upon  Nature  with  eyes  trained 
only  to  see  in  her  a  certain  number  of  pictorial  effects,  and  in  man  only  pleas- 
ant arrangements  of  color  and  form.  Here  every  artist  seems  to  cater  for  the 
public  as  a  dramatic  agent  caters  for  the  theatre — to  say  in  his  heart:  'Here  is 


I 

X! 
><        .  • 

5     g 

h     £ 

Z      "~ 

<  5 

I-     I 

<  «5 


WILLIAM    T.     RICHARDS.  g3 

a  nice,  pretty  thing  I've  made  for  you.  Don't  you  like  it  ?  Then  I'll  make 
something  else.'  Beautiful  in  many  respects,  the  English  art  is  practically 
an  art  without  any  coherent  faith  and  life"  —  if,  we  say,  our  native  art 
has  with  more  or  less  justness  been  likened  to  its  English  sister,  how  unjust 
would  he  the  application  of  such  words  as  those  to  the  honest,  thorough,  and 
masterly  performances  of  Mr.  William  T.  Richards!  "We  have  seen  in  ail 
exhibition  a  whole  room  full  of  weak  prettinesses  supported  by  one  strong, 
virile  work  of  his — a  work  almost  strong  enough  to  capture  the  enthusiasm  of 
grave  and  titled  Academicians,  in  whose  eyes  art  in  water-colors  is  usually  a 
woman's  plaything,  half  patronized,  half  despised,  who  insist  that  oils  are  the 
true  channels  of  vigorous  and  respectable  effort,  and  that  considerable  non- 
sense is  promulgated  by  the  water-colorists  in  their  frequent  assumption  of  a 
monopoly  of  "  transparency,"  "  delicacy,"  and  the  power  to  seize  "  subtile, 
evanescent  impressions,"  and  fix  them  where  they  will  do  the  most  good. 

In  the  Philadelphia  Loan  Exhibition  of  1878  Mr.  Richards  was  repre- 
sented by  seven  landscapes  and  marine  pictures,  varied  both  in  style  and  in 
subject.  Concerning  one  of  these  works  a  Philadelphian  says  :  "  It  is  worth 
noting  that  the  '  Leafy  June,'  by  our  Philadelphia  landscapist,  W.  T.  Richards, 
loses  nothing  by  its  juxtaposition  with  the  fine  '  Twilight  on  the  Seine,'  by 
Daubigny,  an  interpretation  of  a  difficult  phase  of  Nature,  in  which  every- 
thing is  dependent  on  an  exquisite  harmony  of  tone.  '  Leafy  June '  was 
painted  as  far  back  as  1862,  at  a  time  when  a  good  many  of  our  American 
painters  were  in  the  habit  of  sneering  at  Mr.  Richards's  exact  and  painstaking 
methods,  and  before  he  acquired  that  freedom  of  handling  which  characterizes 
his  later  works.  It  is  just  a  trifle  hard  aud  over-exact  in  non-essentials,  but  its 
intrinsic  merits  are  proved  by  the  fact  that  it  is  well  able  to  hold  its  own  not 
only  with  the  landscape  by  Daubigny  referred  to,  but  with  a  number  of  other 
brilliant  and  masterly  works  on  the  same  walls.  The  reason  is,  that  Mr.  Rich- 
ards, when  he  painted  this  picture,  saw  not  only  every  leaf  on  the  trees  before 
him,  but  he  saw,  and  consequently  was  able  to  paint,  the  whole  effect." 

If  some  artists  sneered  at  Mr.  Richards's  pictures. in  1862  because  he 
was  too  minute  and  intricate  in  details,  it  is  also  true  that  some  artists  affect 
a  contempt  for  his  later  and  riper  delineations.  A  crowd  in  the  National 
Academy  galleries  in  New  York  during  the  annual  exhibition  is  easily  divisi- 

15 


(34  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

ble  into  the  three  classes  who  admire  this  artist's  pictures,  who  dislike  them, 
and  who  do  not  intelligently  appreciate  any  work  of  art — the  last  class,  of 
course,  being  by  far  the  most  numerous  of  the  three.  Among  our  young 
painters  who,  after  a  course  of  study  in  Paris  or  Munich,  or  both  places,  have 
returned  to  their  beloved  land  with  the  purpose  of  showing  to  their  country, 
men  the  only  true  and  infallible  methods  of  art,  you  will  hardly  be  able  to 
find  two  warm  admirers  of  Mr.  W.  T.  Richards.  The  Society  of  American 
Artists,  composed  chiefly  of  those  young  gentlemen,  did  not  invite  Mr.  Rich- 
ards to  contribute  to  their  first  and  celebrated  exhibition  in  the  spring  of 
1878.  They  deliberately  resolved  not  to  invite  him.  Their  reason  was,  that 
they  did  not  consider  him  to  be  an  artist  in  the  strict  and  approved  sense  of 
the  term.  Not  one  of  them — we  are  speaking  with  exactness — not  one  of  them 
is  able  to  approach  within  arm's-length  of  his  splendid  draughtsmanship.  Nor 
is  there  one  of  them  who  would  assert  his  own  ability  in  this  direction,  or  claim 
to  possess  the  resources  in  technique  which  the  accomplished  Philadelphian 
has  acquired  by  years  of  honest  and  most  diligent  application  to  his  business. 
The  fact  is,  that  most  of  these  young  gentlemen  are  exhibiting  as  finished  pict- 
ures what  to  Mr.  Richards  are  simply  studio-studies,  or  out-of-door  sketches — 
works  the  excellence  of  which  Mr.  Richards,  doubtless,  would  be  the  first  to 
see  and  acknowledge,  but  the  incompleteness  of  which  would  be,  in  his  eyes, 
positively  painful  and  certainly  inexcusable,  except  on  the  ground  of  juvenile 
incapacity.  It  may,  indeed,  be  questioned  whether  or  not  the  modern  Euro- 
pean school  to  which  the  Society  of  American  Artists  chiefly  belongs — we 
say  school  and  not  schools,  because,  in  whatever  city  the  masters  who  lead  it 
reside,  the  motives  that  compel  these  masters  are  substantially  the  same — is 
not  becoming  increasingly  inefficient  by  reason  of  its  vehement  scorn  for  de- 
tails which  only  instructed  and  industrious  painters  are  competent  to  repre- 
sent. Consider,  for  instance,  the  marvelous  incorrectness,  as  well  as  sloven- 
liness, of  many  of  the  great  Corot's  drawings  of  the  human  figure.  This 
famous  and  brilliant  artist  once  affixed  his  revered  name  to  the  worst-drawn 
female  arm  that,  perhaps,  has  ever  been  publicly  exhibited  in  a  first-class  gal- 
lery in  the  city  of  New  York. 

It  might  as  well,  then,  be  said  at  once  that  the  trained  and  honest  pencil 
of  Mr.  Richards  has  secured  for  him  the  very  hearty  respect  of  many  compe- 


ON     THE     WISSAHICKON. 
From  a  Painting  by    William    T,  Richards. 


p.M. 


SEYMOUR    JOSEPH    GUY.  gg 

tent  connoisseurs  ;  and  that  the  greater  number  of  the  canvases  on  which  this 
pencil  has  left  its  tracings  are  sure  to  improve  with  age  in  precisely  the  same 
respects  and  to  precisely  the  same  degree  that  Falernian  wine  did.  The  oc- 
casional rigidity — frigidity,  if  we  please — that  characterizes  his  pictures,  the 
occasional  apparent  forgetfulness  on  his  part  that  a  work  of  art  is  not  an 
assemblage  of  details,  but  a  fused  and  glowing  ensemble,  cannot,  of  course,  but 
be  deplored.  His  latest  works  show  less  of  these  faults  than  his  earlier  ones ; 
his  landscape  in  two  shades  of  green,  for  example,  which  was  hung  in  the 
fifty-third  annual  exhibition  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design,  was,  in  the 
particulars  just  mentioned,  a  marked  advance  upon  his  landscape  entitled 
"  Leafy  June."  Some  of  his  more  recent  water-colors,  too,  are  obvious  im- 
provements upon  his  first  attempts  on  Whatman  paper.  The  evidence  is 
sufficient  that  Mr.  Richards  has  himself  felt  the  need  of  a  change,  and  that  he 
has  manfully  discarded  some  of  the  errors  of  his  juvenescent  pre-Raphaelism. 
This  is  well,  and  worthy  of  praise.  Consistency  is  the  worst,  as  it  is  usually 
the  first,  infirmity  of  noble  artist-minds.  The  painter  who  begins  his  career 
with  one  idea,  ends  that  career  much  more  speedily  than  he  is  aware,  when- 
ever this  idea  has  metamorphosed  itself  into  a  hobby.  If,  like  a  Bourbon,  he 
will  never  learn,  like  a  Bourbon,  also,  he  gets  laid  upon  the  shelf,  wb ether  he 
is  conscious  of  the  result  or  not. 

"  At  Atlantic  City,"  which  we  have  engraved,  was  exhibited  in  the  Paris 
Salon  of  1873,  and  is  now  in  Mr.  Joseph  Ferrel's  private  collection  in  Phila- 
delphia. It  is  a  subject  too  barren  to  attract  many  artists  very  strongly,  but 
Mr.  Richards's  treatment  of  it  has  made  it  positively  picturesque.  The  cedars 
in  late  autumn  on  the  coast,  the  easy  play  and  sparkle  of  the  breakers,  and  the 
vast  perspective,  are  the  principal  elements  of  the  composition.  "  On  the 
Wissahickon  "  is  a  richer  subject.  The  leaves  of  the  trees,  the  foreground 
shrubs,  the  tumbled  rocks,  and  the  sylvan  stream  murmuring  past  the  obstruc- 
tions in  its  course,  and  reflecting  the  serenest  beauty  of  sky  and  forest-brink, 
are  deftly  and  lovingly  depicted.     It  is  a  scene  of  sunshine,  gladness,  and  rest. 


Turning  for  a  moment  from  landscape  to  genre  painting,  we  are  confronted 
with  the  pictures  of  Mr.  Seymour  Joseph  Guy,  whose  reputation  has  been 


66  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

earned  as  fairly  as  that  of  any  other  American  artist.  He  was  born  in  Green- 
wich, Kent,  England,  on  the  16th  of  January,  1824,  and  in  his  boyhood  was 
fond  of  painting  horses  and  dogs.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  took  lessons  of 
Mr.  Buttersworth,  a  marine  painter,  whose  name  might  never  have  been  men- 
tioned on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  but  for  the  success  of  his  pupil.  His 
parents  were  dead,  and  his  guardian  objected  to  his  becoming  a  painter  be- 
cause of  the  precarioxisness  of  the  emoluments  of  that  profession,  advising 
him  to  study  engraving  instead.  But  the  "  premium  "  asked  by  employers  of 
an  apprentice  was  too  much  for  Guy's  circumstances,  and  all  that  the  young 
aspirant  could  do  was  to  wait.  He  learned  to  labor  also — at  his  favorite 
easel — and  in  six  years  Death  took  the  pains  of  removing  the  obstacle  to  his 
pursuit  of  his  art.  His  guardian  died.  "  Now,"  said  Guy  to  himself,  "  I'm 
going  to  turn  painter  in  earnest,"  although,  as  he  has  since  confessed,  he 
"  didn't  know  where  to  get  his  salt."  To  begin  poor,  however,  is  the  regula- 
tion method  in  art,  as  he  had  already  learned  in  the  little  he  had  read  of  the 
best  of  the  masters.  His  heart  was  not  cast  down  nor  his  ambition  lessened. 
He  gathered  about  him  his  mental  resources,  girded  himself  like  an  athlete, 
and  set  out  in  search  of  Fortune.  She  came  to  him  as  seldom  she  fails  to 
come  to  a  brave,  young,  self-reliant  seeker — this  time  in  the  person  of  a  friend 
named  Mliller.  "  Would  you,"  asked  Midler,  "  like  to  enter  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy ?  "  "I  should  like  to  get  into  the  British  Museum  as  a  student,"  replied 
the  youth  ;  and  next  day  came  an  invitation  to  go  there.  The  gladness  of  the 
recipient  may  be  imagined  ;  it  is  scai'cely  worth  while  to  attempt  to  describe 
it.  To  this  day,  Mr.  Guy  himself  is  bothered  by  the  attempt.  Good  things, 
like  that,  rarely  coming  single-handed,  it  was  natural  for  him  to  succeed  in 
finding  a  studio  also  where  he  could  put  into  practice  the  lessons  learned  at 
the  Museum.  He  articled  himself  to-  Mr.  Ambrose  Jerome,  a  London  painter, 
whose  reputation,  like  that  of  Mr.  Buttersworth,  owes  a  debt  of  gratitude  to 
his  pupil,  and  made  an  arrangement  by  which  he  should  work  three  days  each 
week  for  his  master  and  three  days  for  himself.  His  time  was  devoted  to  por- 
trait-painting, to  designs  for  naval  basins,  to  "  effects  "  for  architects,  to  plans 
for  vessels  in  isometrical  perspective,  to  anything,  in  a  word,  that  came  to 
hand — neither  he  nor  Jerome  were  at  all  particular  concerning  what  it  was,  so 
long  as  it  brought  with  it  pounds,  shillings,  or  pence. 


THE     ORANGE-GIRL. 
From  a   Painting  by  Seymour  Joseph  Guv. 


p.  67. 


S  E  YM  0  U  B    J  OSEP  U    0  U  Y. 


67 


It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  events  for  this  sort,  of  life  to  continue  forever ; 
and  accordingly,  in  the  year  1854,  Mr.  Guy  found  himself  in  America,  a  coun- 
try at  that  time  the  El  Dorado  of  enthusiasts,  and  the  isles  afar  off  that  waited 
to  enrich  emigrants.  His  first  works  here  were  portraits,  the  contemplation  of 
which,  occasionally  in  the  year  1878,  causes  him  to  smile  The  besl  of  them, 
perhaps,  is  the  picture  of  Mrs.  Falconer,  a  cabinet-work  of  considerable  inter- 
est, now  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  John  M.  Falconer,  himself  an  artist  and  a 
friend  of  artists,  a  gentleman  to  whom  was  largely  due  the  formation  of  the 
American  Water-Color  Society,  and  without  the  mention  of  whose  name  and 
services  no  history  of  the  Artists'  Fund  Society  would  be  complete.  A  rep- 
resentation of  a  child  undressing  herself  in  a  stream  of  moonlight  that  floods 
the  room  from  a  dormer- window,  and  pours  itself  upon  her  breast,  is  another 
of  his  earlier  works.  It  is  owned  by  Mr.  George  Whitney,  of  Philadelphia. 
"  Going  to  the  Opera,"  a  family  group,  painted  for  Mr.  W.  H.  Vanderbilt,  and 
hanging  in  one  of  his  parlors,  gained  for  Mr.  Guy  considerable  newspaper 
celebrity. 

During  the  period  of  his  pupilage  in  England  he  was  much  interested  in 
the  matter  of  painting  shadows.  He  was  told  that  he  should  paint  them 
directly  "out  of  his  head,"  and  should  not  go  to  Nature  for  them  at  all.  At 
that  particular  epoch  of  British  art  it  was  the  almost  invariable  custom  to 
make  shadows  "hot;"  to  represent  them  by  means  of  burnt  sienna  and  umber. 
One  day,  in  the  Royal  Academy  in  London,  he  was  struck  with  Paul  Dela- 
roche's  picture  of  Cromwell  looking  at  King  Charles,  which  was  to  him  a  reve- 
lation and  a  marvel  in  the  rendering  of  light  and  shade.  The  sight  of  that 
canvas  opened  his  eyes.  He  thinks  that  they  were  shut  before.  Ever  since, 
his  delight  has  been  in  the  laws  of  light  and  shade,  especially  when  a  spec- 
tator of  his  works  says  to  him,  "  Your  pictures  look  as  though  I  could  walk 
into  them."  There  is  no  doubt  whatever  that  some  of  them  really  look  so  ; 
and  this  is  one  excellence  of  Mr.  Guy's  professional  performances. 

"  A  work  of  art,"  says  Mr.  Guy,  "  divides  itself  into  the  natural  and  the 
ornamental.  Blank's  landscapes  "  (mentioning  a  noted  American  painter) 
"are  natural,  but  they  are  not  art,  They  are  simply  faithful  copies  of  external 
Nature.  Turner's  '  Tower  of  London,'  on  the  other  hand,  perfect  though  it  is 
in  chiaro-oscwro,  and  almost  perfect  in  color  and  in  lines,  is  not  Nature.     The 

16 


(38  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

true  picture  is  both  Nature  and  art  We  must  follow  Nature  as  closely  as  we 
can,  but  we  must  select  from  Nature ;  we  must  take  the  most  beautiful  thiugs 
and  discard  the  deformities.  Of  course,  nothing  in  art  has  yet  surpassed  Na- 
ture, and  we  all  go  wrong  when  we  go  away  from  her.  Still,  Ave  want  some- 
thing more  than  her  alone.  I  '  paint  up '  a  simple  story,  trying  to  get  into  it 
as  much  beauty  as  possible  from  color,  light,  and  shade  —  as  much  beauty 
of  every  sort  as  it  will  admit.  In  later  years  I  think  I  have  gained  most  in 
lucidity  and  brilliancy  of  coloring." 

In  1861  Mr.  Guy  was  elected  an  Associate  of  the  National  Academy,  and 
in  1865  an  Academician.  A  pleasant  little  portrait,  entitled  "  The  Spring," 
and  painted  in  the  latter  year,  has  found  a  lasting  welcome  in  the  home  of  Mr. 
James  M.  Hart,  the  artist.  "  The  Sorrows  of  Little  Red  Riding  Hood  "  was 
exhibited  at  the  same  time.  His  favorite  subjects  are  incidents  in  children's 
lives.  His  "  Orange-Girl,"  engraved  herewith,  is  a  good  example  of  them. 
The  scene — a  familiar  one  to  New-Yorkers,  at  least — -is  a  young  girl  standing, 
with  hands  crossed,  near  a  basket  of  oranges,  which  she  has  evidently  been 
carrying  a  good  while,  and  has  set  down  on  a  broken  box  in  order  to  rest  her- 
self. She  is  on  the  pavement  near  the  piers,  the  shipping,  and  the  drays,  but 
her  thoughts  are  elsewhere,  and  are  sad.  The  story  is  a  good  deal  more  than 
a  paragraph-picture  of  an  event,  and  the  best  part  of  it  can  be  felt  but  not 
described — an  observation,  indeed,  which  might  with  truth  be  made  concern- 
ing any  work  of  art. 

Mr.  Guy  has  never  been  a  rapid  painter,  and  he  has  not  a  particle  of  dash 
in  execution.  He  works  slowly,  carefully,  and  perseveringly  ;  and  he  is  very 
conscientious  about  keeping  his  canvases  in  his  studio  until  they  have  re- 
ceived the  finishing  touches.  Before  beginning  a  picture  he  knows  precisely 
what  effect  he  intends  to  produce,  and  he  hammers  away  at  the  nail  until  it 
can  be  driven  in  no  farther.  Then  he  stops — that  is  to  say,  he  does  not  load 
his  delineations  with  more  than  they  can  bear.  He  knows  when  he  is  done, 
and  he  lets  well  enough  alone.  But  to  send  away  an  incomplete  work,  one  to 
which  he  feels  justice  has  not  been  done,  would  be  almost  impossible  with 
him.  Should  he  by  chance  or  necessity  do  so,  he  woidd  be  miserable  until  he 
got  it  back  again,  which  is  the  same  as  saying  that  for  the  commercial  aspects 
of  art  he  has  a  profound  disrespect.     He  does  not  paint  for  dollars,  but  for 


THE    OLD    STORY. 
From  a  Painting  by  E.   Wood  Perry. 


p.  71. 


SEYMOUR    JOSEPH    GUY. 


69 


love,  and  in  order  to  satisfy  himself  it  is  necessary  for  him  to  pain)  steadily, 
evenly,  and  long.  His  "  Fair  Venice,"  a  young  lady  of  fine  personal  attrac- 
tions leaning  over  the  railing  of  a  balcony  and  gazing  upon  the  blue  Adri- 
atic, is  a  painstaking  performance  if  ever  there  was  such  a  thing.  It  is  beau- 
tiful also. 

Mr.  John  H.  Sherwood,  of  New  York,  owns  Mr.  Guy's  "Supplication"  and 
his  "  Knot  in  the  Skein  ; "  Mr.  P.  Van  Valkenberg,  of  New  York,  "  The 
Gamut  "  and  "  Children  catching  the  Bird  ;  "  Mr.  Jay  Gould,  "  The  Father's 
Return,"  a  girl  with  her  hand  before  a  candle,  standing  at  a  cottage-door,  and 
listening  to  the  footsteps  that  are  approaching ;  and  Mr.  Polhemns,  of  Brook- 
lyn, "  The  Broken  String  "  and  also  "  The  Orange-Girl."  The  artist's  industry 
compensates  for  the  absence  of  celerity,  and  his  pictures  may  be  found  in  most 
of  the  collections  in  the  principal  cities  of  the  continent.  The  painting  of 
portraits,  a  department  to  which  Mr.  Guy  once  devoted  almost  exclusive 
attention,  has  very  little  consideration  from  him  now.  He  is  a  genre  painter 
almost  exclusively,  a  painter  of  scenes  in  American  domestic  life,  an  historian 
in  a  sense,  but  never  a  moralist ;  and  just  what  he  best  likes  to  produce  is 
expressed  in  Mr.  Frederick  Wedmore's  description  of  a  work  by  the  Dutch 
artist  Maes,  entitled  "  The  Listener :  "  "A  girl  descending  the  last  turn  of  the 
stairs  that  just  hides  her,  in  her  silent  and  arrested  moment,  from  sight  of  the 
talking  group,  lantern-lighted,  in  some  dim  background  of  kitchen  or  cel- 
lar, has  an  effect  of  light  and  shade  attained  by  great  subtilty.  The  broad 
and  general  effect  is  of  high  light  on  the  yellowing  white  of  the  listener's 
apron  and  tippet,  and  darkening  gloom  elsewhere ;  but  the  subtilty  is  there, 
too,  and  the  eye,  when  once  familiar  with  the  work,  may  pass  from  these 
broad  spaces  of  warm  light  on  tippet  and  large  apron  to  changing  and  van- 
ishing effects  on  chamber-wall,  where,  in  tints  strangely  neutral,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  say  whether  the  light  begins  to  be  shadow,  or  shadow  begins  to  be 
light,  and  so,  amid  half-glooms,  to  isolated  points  of  brightness ;  the  balus- 
ter-head catching  at  just  one  rounded  bit  the  stray  glimmer ;  the  glimmer 
breaking  out  again,  yellow  and  brassy,  on  the  farther  nails  of  the  straight 
Dutch  chair  that  peers  from  background  space  and  wall,  in  cozy  and  gathered 
dimness.  Light  in  this  picture  is  a  moving  presence  of  slow  and  changing 
life,  giving  life,  too,  and  companionship  to  the  else  inanimate  things  ;  and 


70 


A  Ml-:  HI  CAN    PMXTERS. 


Maes  and  his  fellows  followed  its  subtilties  on  chamber-wall  and  hanging, 
and  in  its  narrow  yet  eventful  passage  from  chamber  to  hearth — played  out 
its  little  drama  there,  within  that  limited  space — much  as  the  more  commonly 
extolled  painters  of  our  last  generation  watched  it  in  problems  of  conflicting 
sunshine  and  shadow  in  English  landscape."  If  Mr.  Guy  has  never  yet  pro- 
duced all  these  subtilties,  he  at  least  can  recognize  and  appreciate  them  as 
well  as  can  any  other  genre  painter  in  this  country. 


For  the  cpiality  of  some  of  his  still-life  painting,  especially  for  the  faith- 
fulness and  delicate  feeling  with  which  he  has  portrayed  the  mysteries  of  old- 
china  cupboards  and  mantel-ornaments,  Mi-.  E.  Wood  Perky  has  distinguished 
himself  among  American  artists.  The  tiles,  the  tongs,  the  fender,  the  hang- 
ing brush,  in  "  Fireside  Stories,"  are  delightful  specimens  of  pictorial  represen- 
tation, and  the  large  tin  pail  which  the  milkmaid  carries  while  listening  to 
"  The  Old  Story  "  is  probably  as  skillfully  done  as  most  persons  would  care  to 
see  it.  But  when  Mr.  Perry  attempts  to  tell  a  story,  and  to  introduce  into  it 
a  woman's  face,  the  excellences  of  his  work  are  less  striking.  Of  one  thing, 
however,  the  spectator  may  be  confident  when  about  to  examine  a  canvas 
from  the  easel  of  this  artist :  if  there  is  a  story  told,  it  is  domestic,  simple,  and 
perspicacious.  To  call  Mr.  Perry  a  genre  painter  would  be  entirely  correct,  as 
the  present  popular  art-nomenclature  counts  correctness  ;  but  the  connoisseur 
who  desired  to  contemplate  him  on  his  brightest  and  best  side  would  devote 
attention  chiefly  to  that  admirable  quality  of  his  still-life  painting  of  which 
mention  has  just  been  made,  and  good  examples  of  which  have  been  seen  in 
New  York  at  almost  every  Academy  exhibition  during  the  last  ten  years. 

Mr.  Perry  was  born  in  Boston,  Massachusetts,  in  the  year  1831.  When 
seventeen  years  old  he  became  a  clerk  in  a  commission-house  in  New  Orleans, 
where  iu  three  years  he  succeeded  in  saving  the  sum  of  eleven  hundred  dol- 
lars. This  mouey  enabled  him  to  study  art  and  to  develop  his  artistic  capaci- 
ties. With  it  in  his  pocket,  he  bade  adieu  to  the  counting-room  and  went  to 
Europe.  The  late  Mr.  Emanuel  Leutze,  a  figure-painter  of  no  mean  cisatlan- 
tic reputation  at  that  time,  was  living  in  Di'isseldorf,  and  to  him,  as  was  alto- 
gether natural,  the  aspiring  young  clerk  turned,  after  making  the  usual  tour 


■I  p 

II 


■WMHUMiniii 


FIRESIDE     STORIES. 

From  a  Painting  by  E.  Wood  P 


p.  TO. 


E.      WOOD     PERRY.  71 

of  London  and  Paris.  So  well  did  Mr.  Leutze  treat  him,  and  so  pleased  mu- 
tually were  scholar  and  teacher,  that  it  was  not  until  the  end  of  a  pupilage  of 
two  years  and  a  half  that  Mr.  Perry  found  himself  departing  from  Diisseldorf. 
Then  he  went  to  Paris  and  took  lessons  of  Couture,  in  whose  studio  Daniel 
Huntington,  Thomas  Hicks,  and  other  American  painters,  had  already  served 
an  apprenticeship  of  longer  or  shorter  duration,  and  whose  methods  Mr.  Hun- 
tington once  described  to  the  present  writer  as  follows :  "  After  making  the 
outline  of  the  picture  in  charcoal,  oil,  and  turpentine,  Couture  nil  died  over 
the  canvas  a  transparent,  warm  tint  of  a  deep-toned  salmon-color.  Next,  with 
another  warm  tint,  he  deepened  the  strongest  shadows  of  the  sketch,  develop- 
ing the  light  and  shade.  Next  he  painted,  with  a  neutral  gray  inclining  to 
green,  the  masses  of  shadow  in  the  flesh,  and  into  that  neutral  gray  draped 
some  bloody  tints,  giving  it  fleshy  illumination.  Where  the  masses  of  light 
in  the  flesh  were  to  be,  he  first  painted  in  a  lower  tone,  rather  negative  and 
gray,  and  over  that  spread,  or  dragged,  some  very  solid  color,  warm  and  rich. 
The  under-painting  in  each  case  shone  through  in  little  specks,  giving  sparkle 
and  life  to  the  surface  ;  and  the  whole  treatment  was  as  easy  as  it  was  mas- 
terly. Couture  had  as  much  facility  and  certainty  in  every  touch  as  any  man 
that  ever  lived.  He  never  tried  again.  If  he  failed  in  one  attempt,  he  must 
take  a  new  canvas,  or  blacken  over  the  old  one.  For  the  lights  of  his  flesh  he 
used  Naples-yellow  and  vermilion,  with  cobalt  broken  in ;  and,  for  the  deep 
shadows,  cobalt  and  brown-red.'1 

Couture's  inspiration  left  upon  Mr.  Perry's  mind  an  impression  less  deep 
than  upon  Mr.  Huntington's,  and  more  deep  than  upon  Mr.  Hieks's ;  and  since 
many  of  Couture's  notions  and  processes  have  latterly  lost  caste  somewhat, 
it  is  in  order  to  say  that  Mr.  Perry's  realistic  iustinets  and  modes  are  quite 
different  from  those  of  his  French  master.  One  year  in  Couture's  studio 
was  followed  by  a  few  months  in  Rome,  and  then  by  about  three  years  in 
Venice,  where  our  unpaternal  government  was  nevertheless  paternal  enough 
to  appoint  the  young  American  a  consul.  The  salary  of  the  position  made 
him  comfortable,  and  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  made  him  happy.  Perhaps 
no  American  consul  would  respond  more  warmly  than  Mr.  Perry  to  the  im- 
passioned descriptions  in  "  Childe  Harold,"  or  in  M.  Yriarte's  "  Venise,"  of 

the  queen  city  of  the  Adriatic. 
17 


72  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

Iii  1860,  after  au  absence  of  eight  years,  the  artist  returned  home,  and 
opened  a  studio  in  Philadelphia  ;  but,  yielding  to  the  promptings  of  his  nat- 
ural and  acquired  love  of  travel,  he  made  a  tour  to  the  South  and  West,  sup- 
porting himself  by  painting  portraits.  San  Francisco  was  attractive  enough 
to  hold  him  for  three  or  four  years.  He  visited  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and, 
on  his  way  back  to  the  Atlantic,  stopped  for  some  time  at  Salt  Lake  City 
for  the  purpose  of  committing  to  canvas  the  vei'isimilitudes  of  the  late  Brig- 
ham  Young  and  the  luminaries  of  the  Mormon  Church.  In  1866  he  settled  in 
New  York,  and  began  his  career  as  a  still-life  and  figure  painter.  Two  years 
afterward  he  was  elected  an  Associate  of  the  National  Academy,  and  the 
next  year  an  Academician,  in  recognition  chiefly  of  his  painting  "  The  "Weav- 
er," which,  like  most  of  his  best  pictures,  is  a  transcript  of  humble  Ameri- 
can life.     Recently  he  has  been  making  another  long  stay  in  California. 


It  was  often  remarked,  during  the  first  exhibition  of  the  Society  of  Amer- 
ican Artists  in  New  York,  that  young  Mr.  Sargeant's  magical  "  Fishing  for 
Oysters  at  Cancale "  had  been  bought  by  Mr.  Samuel  Colman.  In  fresh, 
translucent,  humid  atmospheric  effects,  this  picture  was  the  best  there  dis- 
played; and  when  asked  by  a  friend  why  he  had  purchased  it,  Mr.  Col- 
man replied,  promptly:  "Because  I  wanted  to  have  it  near  me  to  key  my- 
self up  with.  I  am  afraid  that  I  may  fall  below  just  such  a  standard,  and 
I  wish  to  have  it  hanging  in  my  studio  to  reproach  me  whenever  I  do."  This 
remark  is  mentioned  here  first,  because,  in  the  circumstances,  it  was  an  unu- 
sual one.  The  artist  who  made  it  was  much  the  elder  of  the  two,  and  had 
had  much  the  greater  advantages.  He  had  traveled  more  extensively,  had 
studied  more  widely,  and  had  painted  more  canvases.  It  would  have  been 
natural  and  to  be  expected  for  him  to  decline  to  learn  of  an  inferior  in  age 
and  in  equipment ;  and  the  majority  of  artists  in  his  position  would,  it  may 
safely  be  said,  have  acted  differently.  Certainly,  they  would  never  have  con- 
fessed themselves  to  be  the  pupils  of  a  countryman  who  was  their  junior. 
In  the  next  place,  the  remark  is  worth  quoting  because  it  was  entirely  a  char- 
acteristic one  for  the  gentleman  who  uttered  it.  Mr.  Colman  is  most  con- 
spicuous for  breadth  of  artistic  vision.     Without  being  in  any  special  sense 


I 


W 

z 

H 

I 

K 

. 

W 

I 

i  Kki 

H 

Z 

0 

V'-'-f 

I 

r 

0 

< 

z 

z. 

w 

Q 

z 

i\  h 

«: 

^3 


SAM  V  EL     COL  MA  N. 


73 


an  eclectic,  he  discerns  the  good  in  every  school — nay,  the  "soul  of  good- 
ness" even  "  in  things  evil ;  "  and  whenever  he  recognizes  a  sincere  and  intel- 
ligent purpose  honestly  attempting  to  give  itself  expression,  whether  the 
attempt  be  a  striving,  a  struggling,  or  an  easy,  instinctive  gliding,  he  sends 
it  good  wishes  from  his  heart  and  from  his  lips. 

Mr.  Colman  was  horn  in  Portland,  Maine,  in  the  year  1832,  but  soon  after- 
ward his  father  moved  to  New  York  City,  and  established  himself  as  a  pub- 
lisher and  bookseller.  The  store  of  the  elder  Colman  became  a  fashionable 
and  favorite  resort  for  artists  and  other  art-lovers,  and  many  of  his  publi- 
cations were  among  the  most  beautiful  books  of  the  period.  In  such  an 
atmosphere  it  was  not  strange  that  the  son  should  have  inhaled  artistic  pleas- 
ure, instruction,  and  inspiration  ;  nor  was  it  strange  that  the  father,  whose  own 
tastes  had  produced  it,  should  foster  in  the  young  life  that  he  had  called  into 
existence  the  germs  of  an  artistic  career.  Saumel  Colman,  however,  being  an 
artist  by  nature — as  is  every  artist — took  kindly  to  the  environment  that  For- 
tune had  ordained  ;  and  when  he  found  himself  a  pupil  in  the  studio  of  the 
now  venerable  and  ever  since  beloved  master,  A.  B.  Durand,  his  progress  was 
rapid  and  thorough.  At  an  early  age  he  was  often  seen  sketching  the  ships 
and  the  shipping,  the  waters  and  the  sky,  the  wharves  and  the  wharf  men ; 
and  (which  cannot  with  truth  be  recorded  of  every  neophyte)  receiving  from 
patrons  of  art  the  wherewithal  to  pursue  his  way. 

The  future  opened  auspiciously  for  the  steady  and  diligent  aspirant.  The 
visions  that  had  allured  the  boy  deepened  and  widened  their  glory  for  his 
dawning  manhood.  In  his  eighteenth  year  he  sent  a  picture  to  the  National 
Academy  Exhibition.  It  was  accepted,  well  hung,  and  praised.  What  better 
encouragement  did  he  desire  ?  He  enlarged  the  boi-ders  of  his  excursions,  and 
began  to  study  the  scenery  of  that  beautiful  lake  whose  crystal  waters  the 
early  French  settlers  called  sacramental.  Lake  George,  perhaps,  never  re- 
flected from  its  peaceful  shores  the  figure  of  a  happier  artist.  To  the  White 
Mountains,  also,  he  turned  his  steps,  painting  there  the  studies  for  many  pict- 
ures that  are  now  safely  and  honorably  housed  in  the  galleries  of  the  metropo- 
lis.    And  then — to  Europe. 

It  was  in  1860  that  he  first  found  himself  in  the  romance  and  the  splendor 
of  the  French  and  Spanish  capitals,  and  the  two  years  that  he  spent  in  the 


74  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

studios  and  the  museums,  the  cathedrals  and  the  palaces  of  the  Frank,  the 
Castilian,  and  the  Moor,  were  doubtless  appreciated  as  much  as  have  been 
similar  opportunities  by  any  intelligent  traveler.  Not  appreciated  only,  but 
improved ;  for,  when  he  returned  to  America,  and  was  welcomed  by  an  elec- 
tion as  Academician,  there  came  with  him  those  now  well-known  architectural 
studies  which  afterward  reflected  themselves  in  his  most  popular  pictures  in 
oils  and  in  water-colors.  The  first  of  these  finished  productions  were  the 
"  Harbor  of  Seville,"  the  "  Tower  of  Giralda,"  and  the  "  Bay  of  Gibraltar," 
concerning  the  last-named  of  which  a  critic  wrote  at  the  time  of  its  exhibi- 
tion that,  while  the  subject  is  not  a  promising  one  for  picturesque  treatment ; 
while  Turner  in  his  admirable  work  made  it  an  almost  subordinate  object, 
struggling  for  notice  amid  a  splendid  array  of  sunlit  clouds  and  sea;  and  while 
Achenbach,  in  a  work  of  scarcely  inferior  merit,  depicted  the  rock  as  a  distant 
object,  darkly  gleaming  in  a  stormy  sky,  Colman,  not  caring  to  follow  either 
of  these  distinguished  precedents,  shows  us  the  grand  old  historical  monu- 
ment, on  a  tranquil  summer's  day,  lifting  its  majestic  summit  from  a  calm, 
unruffled  sea  into  a  serene  and  cloudless  sky,  and  glowing  in  the  golden  rays 
of  the  noonday  sun. 

Like  all  his  other  pictures  thus  far,  the  "  Bay  of  Gibraltar  "  was  painted  in 
oils;  but  in  1866  Mr.  Colman,  who  had  previously  shown  fondness  for  water- 
colors,  united  with  several  brother  artists,  and  organized  the  American  So- 
ciety of  Painters  in  Water-Colors,  now  the  American  Water-Color  Society.  He 
was  elected  its  first  president.  For  five  years  he  held  the  position,  having 
been  reelected  each  year,  but  resigned  it  iu  1871,  on  the  occasion  of  his  second 
visit  abroad — this  time  to  Switzerland,  to  Germany,  to  Northern  Africa, 
and  to  Rome,  as  well  as  to  Paris,  to  Madrid,  and  to  Seville — staying  four  years, 
and  being  not  less  industrious  than  during  his  previous  visit.  The  old  towns 
in  France,  especially  in  Normandy,  the  old  castles  on  the  Rhine,  and  the  fine 
old  tombs  in  Algeria  and  the  neighboring  provinces,  seem  to  have  been  his 
chief  attractions.  It  is  doubtful  whether  St.  Peter's  itself  made  upon  him  so 
deep  an  impression  as  did  the  cathedral  at  Caen,  the  castle  at  Andernach,  or 
the  marvelous  tomb  of  Sidi  Bou  Hac  at  Tlemcen.  Two  of  these  pictures  the 
engraver  has  been  extremely  happy  in  reproducing.  In  one  of  them  we  see 
an  ancient  citadel  rising  in  the  perspective  above  the  cross-crowned  towers  of 


A    STREET    SCENE     IN     CAEN,     NORMANDY. 
From  a  Painting  by  Samuel  Coltnan. 


p.  75. 


SAMUEL     COLMAN. 

the  cathedral  on  the  left,  and  the  sunny  slopes  of  the  mountain  on  the  right 
holding  its  castle  in  the  air  higher  than  the  gleaming  belt  of  light  behind  it, 
and  casting  its  majestic  and  mantling  protection  upon  the  houses,  the  vessels 
and  the  rippled,  sparkling  Rhine — a  scene  of  glory  and  of  peace.  In  the  other 
we  are  introduced  to  rare  old  Norman  architecture,  and  pleasing  modern 
festivity,  the  sun  himself  being  pressed  into  service,  and  throwing  a  blaze  of 
light  athwart  the  concourse  of  a  thousand  happy  men  and  women,  and  the 
riehly-sculptiired  cathedral-front. 

Duriug  the  last  twelve  years  Mr.  Colman  has  produced  many  more  works 
in  water-colors  than  in  oils,  and  his  contributions  have  been  among  the  strong- 
est, if  not  themselves  the  strongest,  attractions  of  the  Water-Color  Society's 
annual  exhibitions  in  the  rooms  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design.  Most 
artists  who  paint  exclusively  in  oils  assume  a  patronizing  attitude  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  water-color  exhibition.  They  admit  the  cleverness  of  the  clever 
works  in  it,  but  they  deny  that  they  cannot  equal  them  by  using  oils ;  while, 
in  addition,  they  assert  that  many  of  the  robuster  effects  produced  by  the  lat- 
ter means  are  impossible  to  the  painter  in  water-colors.  Even  those  subtiler 
and  more  evanescent  expressions  which  the  water-colorists  profess  to  have  a 
monopoly  of,  they  will  promise  to  show  you  in  their  studios,  saying :  "  The 
characteristics  that  you  produce  with  water-colors  I  can  produce  with  oils — if 
not  directly  and  absolutely  in  all  cases,  at  least  by  the  help  of  contrasts;  while 
a  score  of  effects  that  with  your  materials  you  can  never  produce — that  you 
will  admit  you  can  never  produce — I  can  produce  in  an  hour." 

This  is  not  the  place  to  settle  the  dispute  between  the  two  classes.  One 
thing,  however,  is  certain,  namely,  that  while  the  possibilities  of  the  water- 
color  painter  have  for  the  most  part  been  uncovered  and  discovered,  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  oil-painter  are  practically  illimitable.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
should  not  be  forgotten  that,  among  English-speaking  peoples  at  least,  modern 
art  in  water-colors  has  been  the  forerunner  and  the  promoter  of  a  new  and 
serious  study  of  Nature,  especially  in  the  department  of  landscape,  a  depart- 
ment in  which  it  has  won  its  brightest  and  most  enduring  triumphs.  "  I  be- 
lieve it  to  be  impossible,"  says  a  living  English  Academician,  "  to  exaggerate 
the  charm  of  pure  water-color"  (by  which  he  means  water-color  without  body- 
color  of  any  sort)  "  as  a  means  of  artistic  expression.  Many  of  Nature's  love- 
is 


76 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


liest  phases,  especially  those  where  atmospheric  effects  are  the  leading  feature, 
are  rendered  far  better  by  it  than  by  any  other  means.  The  mere  material 
seems  delightfully  void  of  all  materiality.  That  crux  of  a  painter  in  oil, 
which  daily  vexes  his  soul,  namely,  the  endeavor  to  get  rid  of  a  painty  look 
in  his  work,  and  the  difficulty,  as  Sir  Joshua  says,  of  '  finding  the  means  by 
which  the  end  is  obtained,'  never  trouble  the  water-color  painter."  These 
words  would  awaken  a  response,  probably,  in  the  heart  of  Mr.  Colman,  who 
has  devoted  himself  so  loyally  and  successfully  to  this  branch  of  the  fine  arts, 
and  no  intelligent  artist  would  deny  that  they  are  more  or  less  true. 

Mr.  Colman's  brush  is  not  less  busy  than  in  his  earlier  days.  Its  master 
is  a  scholar  in  the  matter  of  drawing,  and  in  the  matter  of  large  and  clear 
lighting.  His  poetic  invention  is  real  and  active,  and  his  execution  is  vigor- 
ous and  firm. 


Benjamin  Curtis  Porter,  of  Boston,  made  his  mark  in  New  York  by 
sending  to  the  Academy  Exhibition  of  1877  his  "Portrait  of  a  Lady,  with 
Dog."  No  previous  or  subsequent  work  of  his  is  so  noteworthy  as  this  in 
quality.  The  lady  stands  leaning  gracefully  upon  the  back  of  a  high  chair, 
on  which  is  seated  a  pertinacious,  staring,  full-blooded  pug-dog,  whose  ugli- 
ness is  in  eloquent  contrast  with  the  refined  and  classic  beauty  of  the  woman. 
The  motive  of  the  representation  had  the  disadvantage  of  being  considered 
by  some  spectators  to  be  a  little  stagy.  Other  persons  preferred  the  dog  to 
the  woman  ;  others  still  liked  the  attitude  of  the  woman  best  of  all ;  but  the 
picture,  as  a  whole,  met  with  popular  and  academic  recognition.  It  was  full 
of  delicate  realization  and  of  linear  grace ;  in  its  treatment  there  was  neither 
baldness  nor  artificiality;  and  if,  as  a  piece  of  character-painting,  it  was  some- 
what wanting  in  dejith  and  precision,  in  evidences  of  artistic  insight  at  the 
disposal  of  a  brush  used  to  the  rendition  of  difficult  and  subtile  phases  of 
psychologic  interest,  it  possessed  other  merits  sufficient  to  entitle  it  to  intel- 
ligent respect,  and  to  justify  the  frequently-expressed  wish  to  buy  it.  Mr. 
Porter,  who  was  born  in  Melrose,  Massachusetts,  August  27,  1843,  has  the 
advantage — or  disadvantage — of  having  studied  regularly  under  no  master. 
Contrary  to  the  usual  practice,  he  did  not  enter  any  art-school,  nor  the  studio 


THE     HOUR-CLASS. 
From  a  Painting  by  Benjamin  Curtis   Porlei 


p.  77. 


BENJAMIN     CURTIS    PORT  El;. 


77 


of  any  painter,  nor  did  he  receive  set  lessons  in  painting.  He  went  to  Boston 
early  in  life,  and  picked  up,  as  chance  or  inclination  threw  them  in  his  way, 
the  principles  of  his  profession.  In  1872,  when  twenty-nine  years  old,  ho 
spent  six  months  in  Europe,  principally  in  Paris  and  in  Venice;  but,  although 
he  studied  considerably,  he  attached  himself  to  no  particular  artist.  In  1875 
he  again  spent  six  months  in  those  cities ;  and  in  May,  1878,  made  his  third 
trip  across  the  Atlantic.  One  morning  in  that  month  he  was  in  the  east-room 
of  the  National  Academy  in  New  York,  putting  some  turpentine  on  the  por- 
trait of  Mrs.  T.  F.  Gushing,  of  Boston,  on  exhibition  there,  the  varnish  of 
which  had  "  bloomed,"  as  the  painters  say. 

This  picture,  while  not  scoring  an  advance  on  the  "  Portrait  of  a  Lady, 
with  Dog,"  has  nevertheless  several  commendable  features.  Mrs.  dishing  is 
represented  life-size,  and  descending  a  flight  of  stairs.  The  background,  per- 
haps, is  too  florid,  and  the  figure  is  not  remarkable,  either  for  the  purity  of 
its  flesh-tints  or  for  its  relief.  The  chief  fault  is  a  straining  after  the  vividly 
picturesque ;  yet  Mr.  Porter  doubtless  would  not  be  insensible  to  the  beauty 
of  a  grave  and  simple  portrait  like  that  of  Prof.  Robert  W.  Weir  by  Mr.  J. 
Alden  Weir,  in  the  same  exhibition,  where  the  self-abnegation  of  the  artist, 
the  utter  absence  of  any  effort  at  display,  the  dignity  and  almost  severe 
reserve,  are  obvious.  In  the  case  of  Mr.  Porter's  picture,  however,  the  de- 
mands of  the  subject  were  different  from  those  felt  by  Mr.  Weir ;  the  two 
portraits  have  little  in  common,  and  cannot  properly  be  compared  with  each 
other.  Mr.  Porter's  aims  in  portraiture  are  not  at  all  those  of  the  new  French 
school,  nor  of  any  foreign  school.  Like  Mr.  Daniel  Huntington,  Mr.  George 
A.  Baker,  the  late  Mr.  Henry  Peters  Gray,  and  other  eminent  American 
artists,  he  is  extremely  sensitive  to  the  pictorial  possibilities  of  his  sitters. 
He  considers  it  to  be  the  duty  of  a  portrait-painter  to  make  a  picture  while 
producing  a  portrait,  and  he  would  probably  think  little  of  a  verisimilitude 
which  was  not  conditioned  by  pictorial  necessities.  Ingenuity  of  composition, 
arrangement  of  accessories,  choice  of  local  colors — the  dress  and  ornaments 
that  his  sitter  wears,  and  the  place  and  surroundings  where  she  sits — are  mat- 
ters of  prime  importance  in  his  eyes.  He  desires  something  more  than  a  per- 
fect and  sober  veracity,  and  his  portraits  usually  please  the  general  spectator, 
not  less  than  the  friends  of  the  persons  whom  he  has  placed  upon  the  canvas. 


78  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

Mr.  Porter  is  a  young  man  yet,  and  his  future  is  attractive.  In  Boston,  he 
has  wrought  out  an  enviable  reputation,  and  in  some  respects  his  portraits 
rank  as  the  very  best  which  that  city  can  produce.  He  is  a  figure-painter 
also,  and  "The  Mandolin-Player"  and  "The  Hour-Grlass,"  engraved  herewith, 
adequately  represent  his  skill  in  this  kindred  department.  The  former  is  in 
the  possession  of  Mrs.  George  D.  Howe,  of  Boston.  The  latter  was  in  the 
New  York  Academy  Exhibition  of  1877,  where  its  excellences,  thoiigh  gen- 
erally recognized,  were  partly  eclipsed  by  those  of  the  "  Portrait  of  a  Lady, 
with  Dog,"  which  hung  in  the  same  room,  and  in  a  much  more  favorable  posi- 
tion. Near  a  woman  with  a  lute  in  her  lap  is  Cupid  holding  an  hour-glass. 
The  gracefulness  of  the  invention,  the  skill  of  the  drawing,  and  the  suave 
blending  of  the  tints,  are  noticeable. 

The  originality  is  uncpiestionable,  and  the  same  is  true,  in  general,  of  Mr. 
Porter's  compositions.  Even  the  critic  of  the  London  Academy,  who  finds 
that,  iu  the  American  section  of  the  Paris  Exhibition,  "  nearly  every  work  of 
above  average  merit  has  been  executed  in  a  French  atelier  ;  "  that,  "  as  a  rule, 
the  subjects  of  the  works  exhibited  are  furnished  by  Europe  ; "  and  that,  "  if 
by  chance  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  United  States  are  dealt  with,  there 
is  no  trace  of  anything  like  special  national  character  in  their  treatment," 
could  scarcely  have  failed  to  notice  an  exception  in  Mr.  Porter's  portrait  now 
in  that  Exhibition.  Last  spring  the  artist  received  the  honor  of  an  election 
as  Associate  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design. 

Iu  carrying  out  his  effort  after  picturesqueness,  Mr.  Porter  undoubtedly 
tries  to  steer  midway  between  the  so-called  real  and  the  so-called  ideal — that 
is  to  say,  he  endeavors  to  be  loyal  to  his  sitter,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  pre- 
sent those  larger  and  better  aspects  which  often  are  discernible  only  by  the 
eye  of  faith.  His  portraits  transcend  the  real,  and  yet  are  not  precisely  ideal. 
Overbeck,  who  abandoned  the  careful  study  of  the  model,  preferring  to  paint 
out  of  his  consciousness  of  the  fitness  of  things,  would  have  thought  Mr. 
Porter's  pictures  too  life-like ;  and  some  of  the  old  Dutch  masters,  who 
studied  the  model  until  the  latter  was  almost  shriveled  with  fatigue,  would 
have  pronounced  the  Boston  artist's  works  to  be  not  life-like  at  all.  The  strict 
truth  about  the  matter  is,  that  Mr.  Porter's  portraits  sometimes  get  far  enough 
away  from  the  real  to  be  inadequate  as  likenesses  ;  inadequate  chiefly  because, 


THE     MANDOLIN-PLAYER. 
From  a  Painting  by  Benjamin  Curtis  Porter. 


p.  79. 


BENJAMIN     GURTIs    PORTER.  7., 

in  his  struggle  for  the  picturesque,  he  has  been  sorelj  tempted  to  natter  men's 
and  women's  faces — to  flatter  them  not  only  as  an  ordinary  photographer  does 
by  toning  down  his  "  negative,"  by  removing  all  traces  of  wrinkles,  sens,  and 
so  on,  and  by  giving  improvised  tints  to  the  hair,  the  cheeks,  and  the  lips,  bul 
also  after  the  manner  of  a  photographic  artist  who,  putting  a  transparent 
sheet  of  paper  upon  a  photograph,  and  placing  it  so  that  the  light  shall  shine 
through  it,  makes  a  crayon-drawing  concerning  the  portraiture  of  which  1 1  it- 
most  that  can  be  said  is  that  it  is  founded  upon  a  photograph.  The  picture 
of  the  "Lady,  with  Dog,"  for  example,  is  said,  by  persons  who  know  the 
original,  to  be  incorrect  as  a  likeness.  Its  excellences  in  other  respects  they 
recognize,  but  its  deficiency  in  this  respect  they  assert  to  be  obvious.  It  is 
related  that,  at  a  recent  exhibition  of  oil-paintings,  a  visitor,  while  gazing 
upon  a  representation  of  the  children  of  Charles  I.  at  dinner,  was  overheard  to 
exclaim,  "O  that  hideous  little  object !  " — the  "  object"  being  the  smallest  son 
of  that  unfortunate  monarch;  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  such  exclamation 
has  ever  yet  been  made  in  the  presence  of  one  of  Mr.  Porter's  portraits.  In 
the  first  place,  probably,  Mr.  Porter  would  not  paint  a  hideous  object,  little  en- 
large ;  and,  in  the  next  place,  even  if  he  had  been  tempted  unawares  to  do  so, 
when  the  last  touches  had  been  laid  upon  the  canvas  the  once  hideous  object 
would  have  become  transformed  into  a  thing  of  more  or  less  beauty. 

This  susceptibility  to  the  potential  aspects  of  a  sitter  is,  of  course,  not 
unusual  in  a  portrait-painter.  Gainsborough  had  it  in  some  measure.  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  in  greater  measure  and  many  an  American  artist  in  still 
greater  measure.  The  studios  of  this  country  contain  at  least  several  por- 
trait-painters who  insist  upon  art's  obligation  to  "  improve  "  upon  Nature  in 
the  direction  that  has  been  mentioned.  "It  is  not  only  lawful,"  say  these 
draughtsmen,  "  to  flatter  a  sitter,  it  is  expedient  also.  We  cannot  reproduce 
any  person  perfectly;  some  faithlessness  to  veracity  is  inevitable.  Let  us,  then, 
compensate  for  our  incapacity  in  representing  the  real  by  drawing  upon  the 
resources  of  the  ideal.  Besides,  where  is  the  harm  in  giving  innocent  pleasure 
to  the  sitter  and  the  sitter's  friends  I  The  ideal,  too,  is  the  very  realm  of  art." 
The  arguments  are  plausible,  certainly,  but  they  would  be  more  interesting 
had  they  the  element  of  freshness. 

Leaving  the  matter  a  moment,  it  is  pertinent  to  inquire  whether  or  not 

19 


80  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

Mr.  Porter's  portraits  ever  fail  in  another  particular.  The  effort  for  pictu- 
resqueness  easily  leads  to  a  confusion  of  accessories  whereby  are  lost  breadth 
in  masses  and  distinctness  in  lines.  Without  breadth  in  masses  and  distinct- 
ness in  lines,  a  painting  is  artistically  incomplete.  Destitute  of  these  quali- 
ties, a  picture,  properly  speaking,  is  not  even  picturesque,  and  sometimes  these 
qualities  are  lacking  in  Mr.  Porter's  works.  But  for  an  artist  who  is  original 
and  industrious,  and  has  familiarized  himself  with  the  best  that  is  thought 
and  done  in  art,  a  pleasant  and  inspiriting  future  may  be  predicted. 


Arthur  Quartlet  is  distinguished  for  having,  after  only  four  or  five  years 
of  professional  life,  put  himself  among  the  first  of  the  marine  painters  in  this 
country.  He  was  born  in  Paris,  France,  May  24,  1839.  Soon  afterward  his 
parents  took  him  to  England,  and,  in  his  thirteenth  year,  to  America.  In 
early  manhood  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  sign-painter  in  New  York  City,  and 
for  several  years  followed  his  trade  there.  For  about  ten  yeai-s  he  was  in 
business  in  Baltimore.  Meanwhile,  for  many  months,  he  had  spent  his  spare 
moments  in  studying  the  art  of  painting.  When  the  desire  for  practising  it 
became  too  strong  to  be  restrained,  he  broke  away  from  business  and  got  him- 
self a  studio'  in  1873.  He  had  already  fretted  and  chafed  himself  into  an 
illness. 

In  1876  he  came  to  New  York  in  pursuit  of  a  wider  field  of  work,  and 
painted  his  "  Low  Tide,"  now  owned  by  Mr.  J.  B.  Thorn,  of  Baltimore,  which 
is  his  first  important  picture — a  stranded  vessel  on  the  wet  sand,  a  morning 
effect,  gray-toned,  and  exceedingly  simple.  Its  sentiment  is  fine  and  complete. 
Not  dissimilar  is  his  "  Oyster-Season,  Synepuxent  Bay,"  in  the  possession  of 
Mr.  John  W.  McCoy,  of  the  same  city.  Through  the  shallow  water  an  ox- 
team  is  drawing  a  cart  full  of  oysters  taken  from  a  vessel  just  unloading.  Mr. 
John  Taylor  Johnston  bought  his  "New  York  from  the  North  Biver,"  a  strong 
sunlight  pouring  down  upon  the  water  and  illuminating  a  ferry-boat  and 
other  river-craft.  It  is  in  the  Paris  International  Exhibition.  Mr.  Colgate, 
of  Twenty-third  Street,  New  York,  owns  his  "  Afternoon  in  August,"  which 
somewhat  resembles  but  has  not  copied  a  Ziem. 

Mr.  Quartley  has  never  attended  an  art-school,  and  has  never  taken  a  les- 


h 

m 

D  ?> 

0  ^ 

■J  I 

<  » 

"  ^ 

2  £> 

0  y 

0  '« 

z  'I 


.-  u 


l»w 


. 


ARTLTUR     QUART  LEY.  .  j 

son.  He  never  even  had  a  drawing-master.  lie  has  no  fixed  method  of 
arranging  his  pigments  on  the  palette,  nor  of  painting  it  picture.  He  begins 
anywhere  on  the  canvas,  sometimes  with  the  foreground,  sonic! inns  with  tin- 
horizon,  sometimes  with  the  sky  at  the  zenith.  His  "Close  of  a  Stormj  Day," 
in  the  Academy  Exhibition  of  1877,  was  painted  in  this  wise  :  "  Having  been 
kept  by  a  storm  for  three  days  in  a  house  on  the  shore,"  he  says,  "  a(  sunsel 
there  was  a  glorious  break-up,  and  I  went  out  to  see  it.  It  was  too  grand,  too 
awe-inspiring,  too  rapidly-changing,  for  me  to  attempt  making  a  sketch  of  it 
then.  In  the  morning,  after  dreaming  over  the  scene,  I  made  a  colored  draw- 
ing of  it  —  a  delightful  way  of  doing:  your  mind  is  not  confused  by  the 
changes  that  so  swiftly  succeed  one  another.  After  I  hail  begun  to  paint  the 
picture  it  seemed  a  total  failure.  For  months  it  stood  upon  the  easel.  I  tried 
a  dozen  times  to  get  at  it,  but  I  could  not  reach  the  subtilty  and  true  signifi- 
cance. There  are  perhaps  fifty  or  sixty  days'  work  on  the  canvas ;  but  it 
doesn't  follow  that  four  or  five  days  would  not  have  made  a  better  pictiu'e. 
It  is  very  strange  how  sometimes  every  touch  seems  to  tell,  and  at  other  times 
no  touch  seems  to  produce  anything." 

His  "From  a  North  River  Pier-head"  shows  the  beauty  that  lies  in  the 
homeliness  of  many  surroundings  of  the  metropolis.  The  scene  is  near  the 
Barclay  Street  Ferry,  where  one  of  the  docks  is  devoted  to  the  storage  of 
oysters  brought  thither  by  small  coasting  schooners  and  sloops.  There  is  a 
long  row  of  buildings,  each  one  displaying  a  sign-board  with  a  dealer's  name. 
The  natural  composition  of  the  lines  is  awkward,  and  the  subject  in  general 
is  ill-favored.  But  at  daybreak  in  summer,  when  the  sun  shines  athwart  the 
structures  and  the  vessels,  and  begins  to  dispel  the  mists  that  hang  about 
Trinity  Church-spire,  the  Western  Union  Telegraph  Building,  and  the  new 
Post-Office,  the  scene  is  beautiful.  "  Who  would  have  thought,"  exclaimed  a 
spectator  of  the  picture,  "  that  we  had  anything  in  New  York  as  picturesque 
as  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Quartley  does  not  repeat  himself  in  his  marines.  Each  work  is  the 
result  of  a  distinct  impression.  He  struggles  to  keep  out  of  mannerisms,  and 
has  been  entirely  successful  in  the  effort.  "  Moonlight,"  he  says,  "  is  not  so 
hard  to  paint  as  sunlight  ;  it  is  impossible  to  paint  a  true  moonlight,  but  you 
can  easily  produce  something  pretty  to  hang  on  your  walls.     Moonlights,  too, 


82 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


are  almost  always  salable.1'  He  paints  but  few  of  them.  "The  most  diffi- 
cult tiling  in  a  marine,"  lie  continues,  "  is  to  make  the  whole  picture  hang 
together.  To  get  the  sky  alone  is  not  hard  ;  to  get  the  water  alone  is  not 
hard ;  but  the  water  partakes  so  much  of  the  effect  of  the  sky,  that,  unless  a 
hearty  sympathy  is  preserved  between  them,  the  result  is  worse  than  a  fail- 
ure. Marine  painting  is  much  more  difficult  than  figure-painting.  The  figure- 
painter  has  his  model  constantly  before  him,  but  the  marine  painter  is  forced 
to  catch  the  movement  of  the  water  when  the  darks  may  turn  to  lights  a 
dozen  times  while  he  is  making  the  simplest  sketch.  It  nearly  sets  one  crazy. 
In  painting  water,  I  try  for  motion  above  all  things,  and  the  ten  thousand  re- 
jections from  the  sky." 

The  reader  will  scarcely  fail  to  notice  the  brilliant  execution  of  Mr.  Morse, 
whose  engraving  of  Mr.  Quartley's  "  Afternoon  in  August "  is  one  of  the 
finest  woodcuts  that  any  country  can  produce.  The  shimmer  of  the  ruffled 
waves,  the  softness  and  warmth  of  the  sky,  and  the  proximity  to  color — if  not 
its  very  presence — in  a  reproduction  in  black-and-white  only,  are  truly  de- 
lightful features.  To  go  back  to  Mr.  Quartley,  it  may  be  said  in  conclusion 
that  his  genius  is  as  indisputable  as  are  his  earnestness,  industry,  and  origi 
nality ;  that  both  his  subjects  and  his  style  are  native  products ;  that  his  finest 
period  is  undoubtedly  yet  to  come,  and  that  when  it  does  come  his  reputation 
will  be  cosmopolitan. 


Jasper  Francis  Cropsey  is  a  native  of  Rossville,  Staten  Island,  and  was 
born  February  18,  1823.  In  his  thirteenth  year  he  received  from  the  Amer- 
ican Institute  in  New  York  a  diploma  for  the  best  specimen  of  architectural 
modeling,  and  soon  afterward  another  diploma  for  architectural  drawing.  For 
five  years  he  studied  architecture  in  the  office  of  Joseph  French,  meanwhile 
taking  lessons  in  landscape-painting  under  the  direction  of  Edward  Maury.  At 
the  age  of  twenty,  having  been  overtaken  by  ill-health,  he  withdrew  into  the 
country,  and  devoted  himself  to  making  studies  from  Nature.  His  "  Green- 
wood Lake,"  sent  to  the  National  Academy  Exhibition,  won  for  him  an  elec- 
tion as  Associate  of  that  institution.  It  is  said  that  he  was  the  youngest 
Associate  of  the  Academy  ever  elected  in  this  country.     Architecture  still  had 


t 


£ 


•5, 


" 


J  A  SPER    Fit  A  N  CIS    CR  OPS  E  )'. 


83 


for  him  the  attraction  of  a  first  love,  and  one  of  his  best  works  is  the  chapel 
at  the  New  Dorp  Cemetery  on  Staten  Island.  In  1847  he  weu\  fco  Europe 
and  visited  London,  Paris,  Switzerland,  and  Italy,  spending  the  w  inter-  of  thai 
year  and  the  next  in  Rome,  and  traveling  a  good  deal  in  the  company  of  Mr. 
W.  W.  Story  and  Mr.  C.  P.  Cranch.  His  principal  pictures  at  that  time  were 
"  Jedburgh  Abbey,"  painted  for  Mr.  John  Rutherford,  and  "  The  Pontine 
Marshes,"  painted  for  the  Art  Union.  In  1849  he  returned  to  America.  His 
"  Sibyl's  Temple  "  and  "  Peace  and  War,"  allegorical  subjects,  are  in  the  gal- 
lery of  Mr.  Harrison,  of  Philadelphia.  Another  important  example  is  "  The 
Times  of  Queen  Elizabeth,"  a  landscape  with  a  hawking-party.  He  became 
an  Academician  in  1851,  when  Mr.  Durand  was  President  of  the  Academy. 
Four  years  afterward  he  made  his  second  visit  to  Europe,  and  spent  seven 
years  in  London.  Those  years  Mr.  Cropsey  even  now  contemplates  with  ex- 
treme satisfaction,  and  with  utmost  readiness  to  relive  them  should  Destiny  so 
decree.  He  was  a  regular  exhibitor  at  the  Royal  Academy  exhibitions,  and 
found  easy  sales  for  his  pictures  both  within  and  without  Burlington  House. 
He  was  presented  to  the  queen.  He  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Ruskin 
and  other  literary  and  artistic  luminaries,  in  whose  radiance  he  delighted  to 
gird  up  his  loins.  "  Richmond  Hill,"  one  of  his  characteristic  works,  found  a 
purchaser  in  Mr.  James  McHenry  ;  and  "  Autumn  on  the  Hudson  River  "  was 
sold  while  hanging  in  the  International  Exhibition  of  1862.  To  that  great 
fair  he  was  an  assistant  commissioner,  and  for  services  rendered  there  he  re- 
ceived a  medal.  About  this  time  he  made  illustrations  for  Poe's  works,  for 
"  The  Poets  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,"  and  for  Moore's  poems.  The  origi- 
nals for  these  designs  are  now  owned  by  Mr.  Tom  Taylor.  The  London  pub- 
lisher, Mr.  Gambart,  possesses  a  series  of  sixteen  oil-paintings  representing 
American  scenery. 

Mr.  Cropsey  came  back  to  America  in  1862,  and  painted  two  more  pictures 
for  Mr.  McHenry,  of  London,  entitled  "  Wawayanda  Valley  "  and  "  Ramapo 
Valley."  His  "  Bonchurch "  aud  "  Bridge  at  Narni "  were  bought  by  Mr. 
Butterfield,  of  England.  At  the  Centennial  Exhibition  he  was  represented 
by  his  "  Old  Mill,"  which  received  a  medal  and  diploma,  and  was  engraved 
for  the  Centennial  catalogue.  The  artist's  capacity  for  architectural  work  dis- 
played itself  in  his  supervision  of  Mr.  George  M.  Pullman's  house  at  Chicago ; 


20 


84  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

in  Iris  building  of  the  same  gentleman's  cottage  at  Long  Branch ;  and,  more 
recently,  in  his  construction  of  the  beautiful  stations  on  the  Metropolitan  Ele- 
vated Railroad  in  New  York. 

Mr.  Cropsey's  pictures  are  known  as  well  and  as  widely  as  those  of  any 
other  American  painter.  Especially  of  later  years,  they  have  displayed  per- 
haps an  undue  emphasis  of  local  colors.  Most  of  them  depict  autumn  scenes, 
in  which  the  foliage  usually  approaches  splendor ;  and  all  of  them  speak  of  a 
refined  appreciation  of  and  delight  in  natural  beauty.  The  London  Times  in 
1860  said  of  his  "Autumn  on  the  Hudson  River:"  "The  singularly  vivid  colors 
of  an  American  autumnal  scene,  the  endless  contrast  of  purples  and  yellows, 
scarlets  and  browns,  running  into  every  conceivable  shade  between  the  ex- 
tremes, might  easily  tempt  a  painter  to  exaggerate,  or  revel  in  variety  of  hue 
and  effect,  like  a  Turner  of  the  forest.  But  Mr.  Cropsey  has  resisted  the 
temptation,  and  even  a  little  tempered  the  capricious  tinting  of  Nature ;  his 
autumn  is  still  brilliant,  but  not  cpiite  lost  to  sobriety,  as  we  have  sometimes, 
we  think,  seen  it  in  that  Western  World.  The  result  is  a  fine  picture,  full  of 
points  that  are  new,  without  being  wholly  foreign  and  strange  to  the  Euro- 
pean eye.  It  will  take  the  ordinary  observer  into  another  sphere  and  region, 
while  its  execution  will  bear  any  technical  criticism." 


In  Paisley,  Scotland,  in  the  year  1822,  Mr.  William  Hart  was  born.  At 
the  age  of  nine  he  was  brought  to  this  country  by  his  parents,  who  made 
their  new  home  in  Albany,  New  York,  and  apprenticed  their  son  to  a  coach- 
maker.  It  was  as  a  decorator  of  panels  in  the  shop  of  this  mechanic  that 
Mr.  Hart  made  his  first  public  appearance  as  a  painter.  For  several  years  he 
continued  in  the  same  modest  business.  Soon  success  encouraged  him  to 
widen  the  field  of  his  labors,  and  he  began  to  sketch  from  Nature  and  to  dec- 
orate window-shades.  In  his  eighteenth  year  he  was  graduated  a  portrait- 
painter.  His  prices  were  five  dollars  a  head;  his  studio  was  in  his  father's 
wood-shed  in  the  neighboring  city  of  Troy.  His  first  fee  of  five  dollars,  he 
says,  made  him  feel  prouder  than  he  has  ever  felt  since  on  similar  occasions. 

The  daguerreotype,  the  ambrotype,  and  the  photograph,  being  at  that  time 
unknown,  and  the  liking  for  likenesses  of  the  human  face  being  not  less  real 


w 

X 

>• 
a 

X 
h 
< 
0. 

Id 

I 
h 


WILLI  A  M    II  ART. 


85 


nor  common  than  in  later  years,  Mr.  Hart  found  opportunities  for  painting 
many  portraits;  but,  as  the  production  of  every  portrait  consumed  several 
days,  he  did  not  get  rich  fast.  He  found  that  five  days'  work,  for  instance, 
yielded  him  at  once  a  revenue  of  precisely  five  dollars  whenever  his  customer 
was  prompt  in  making  payment ;  and  it  did  not  take  him  long  to  calculate  the 
possibilities  of  his  progression  in  this  financial  direction.  He  began  to  try  his 
brush  on  landscapes,  and  to  sell  them  for  cash  or  by  barter.  As  his  facility 
and  skill  increased,  he  increased  the  price  of  his  portraits.  He  went  to  Michi- 
gan and  furnished  the  inhabitants  of  that  young  and  thriving  State  with  veri- 
similitudes of  their  features  and  figures  at  twenty-five  dollars  an  inhabitant, 
'boarding  around"  among  his  patrons,  and  thus  killing  two  birds  with  one 
stone.  This  he  did  for  three  years,  but  at  the  expiration  of  that  time,  having 
failed  to  become  acclimatized  sufficiently  to  withstand  attacks  of  fever  and 
ague,  he  packed  up  his  easel,  pigments,  palette,  maul-stick,  and  brushes,  and 
in  1845  returned  to  the  capital  of  the  Empire  State,  where  he  abandoned  por- 
traiture for  landscape-painting.  The  ampler  scope  in  art,  however,  did  not 
dissipate  the  germs  of  disease  that  he  had  brought  with  him  from  the  West. 
He  was  troubled  by  them  for  four  years,  or  until  Dr.  Ormsby,  an  Albany 
Maecenas,  whose  memory  Mr.  Hart  will  not  soon  cease  to  cherish,  presented 
him  with  money  enough  to  make  a  trip  to  Scotland.  Whether  or  not  the 
Scots  are  as  fond  as  are  some  other  peoples  of  their  native  land,  is  a  ques- 
tion concerning  which  a  difference  of  opinion  may  justly  be  held  and  not 
discourteously  expressed.  "  Every  Scotsman,"  says  a  Saturday  Ileviev.  r, 
"  believes  that  he  himself  is  the  one  exception  to  the  charges  which  are 
brought  against  his  countrymen.  Besides,  he  flatters  himself  that  his  people 
have  a  kind  of  dry  humor  of  their  own,  so  superior  to  all  other  as  to  be  inap- 
preciable by  the  blunter  senses  of  the  south." 

Mr.  William  Hart  arrived  in  Scotland  just  twenty-six  years  after  the  death 
of  Sir  Henry  Raeburn,  her  best  portrait-painter,  whose  influence  then  was  a 
force  not  less  potent  than  it  is  to-day.  Although  the  Scottish-American  paint- 
er had  relinquished  his  hold  upon  portraiture,  it  is  probable  that  the  works 
of  Raeburn  left  an  impression  upon  his  mind.  Certainly,  ever  since  his  visit 
to  the  banks  and  braes  of  Doon  Mr.  Hart's  sympathy,  like  Raeburn's,  has 
been  for  beauty  of  outlines  rather  than  for  brilliancy  of  c<  dors.     It  is  a  curious 


86  AMERICAN    r A  INTERS. 

fact,  an  exemplification  of  which  is  found  in  some  of  Raeburn's  pictures,  and 
a  philosophical  explanation  of  which  would  be  both  easy  and  interesting,  that 
Scottish  art  has  long  entertained  a  kind  feeling  toward  modern  French  art — 
a  feeling  that  in  England  has  had  a  very  precarious  existence,  if  indeed  it 
may  be  said  to  have  existed  at  all.  In  Mr.  Hart's  later  works  there  is  no 
trace  of  this  quality  ;  but  some  of  his  earlier  ones  displayed  a  soberness  and 
grace  not  unworthy  of  a  Gallic  origin.  For  beauty  of  outlines,  however,  all 
of  them  are  more  or  less  distinguished.  The  sketches  which  he  made  in  the 
Scottish  Highlands  during  his  three  years'  absence  are  noticeable  for  that 
feature,  and  these  sketches  exerted  a  profound  influence  upon  his  ripening 
career.  They  possessed  also  the  prime  value  of  originality.  Mr.  Hart  never 
was  a  copyist — of  anybody  but  himself.  His  recent  works,  for  the  most  part, 
closely  resemble  one  another.  If  you  go  into  his  studio  you  will  see  ten  or  a 
dozen  of  them  in  various  states  of  incompleteness,  but  very  similar  in  subject, 
in  composition,  and  in  treatment.  His  latest  and  extremely  popular  cabinet 
landscapes,  which  may  be  found  in  almost  all  the  auction-rooms  where  pictures 
are  sold,  and  in  almost  all  the  principal  private  collections  in  the  Atlantic 
cities,  consist  of  a  central  piece  of  forest  divided  by  a  running  stream,  where 
are  some  cows,  whose  backs  gleam  with  sunshine  from  a  background  sun. 
These  productions  always  meet  with  a  ready  sale.  Their  author  multiplies 
them  fast.     He  is  very  industrious  and  persevering. 

In  1852  Mr.  Hart  returned  from  Scotland,  and  reopened  his  studio  in 
Albany.  The  next  year  he  removed  to  New  York  City.  Two  years  after- 
ward he  was  elected  an  Associate  of  the  Academy,  and  three  years  subse- 
quently to  this  event  became  an  Academician.  He  has  been  a  member  of  the 
Council  of  that  institution,  and  a  President  of  the  Brooklyn  Art  Association. 
During  his  presidency,  he  delivered  a  lecture  entitled  "  The  Field  and  the 
Easel,"  which  discussed  the  history  and  the  future  of  American  art  in  land- 
scape. Like  his  brother,  Mr.  James  M.  Hart,  he  is  fonder  of  home  than  of 
club  life,  and  retiring  in  disposition  ;  at  the  same  time,  one  is  often  in  his 
presence  reminded  of  Jean  Paul's  fine  saying,  "There  is  a  certain  noble 
pride  through  which  merit  shines  brighter  than  through  modesty." 

Mr.  Hart's  landscapes  present  the  sunny  and  peaceful  aspects  of  Nature — 
the  sylvan  stream,  the  refulgent  sunset,  pleasant  trees,  honest  cows,  and  lush, 


SOTBtti''  ""  "■;'1,,|,|Il»" 


w  tfjr 


ifJli 


HI:     M 


WILLI  A  M     II  A  E  T. 


87 


green  grass.  Like  Mr.  Inness,  Mr.  Whittredge,  Mr.  Hubbard,  Mr.  Bristol, 
Mr.  Casilear,  Mr.  Sliattuck,  and  other  American  painters,  he  directs  his 
thoughts  and  his  brush  with  especial  delight  to  the  contemplation  and  rep- 
resentation of  cheerfulness,  brightness,  warmth,  and  quietness,  and,  like  them 
also,  he  is  attracted  most  strongly  by  the  human  element  in  lain  I  scape-art. 
He  doubtless  agrees  cordial])'  with  the  dictum  of  a  London  Spectator  essayist, 
that  a  landscape  destitute  of  the  traces  of  man's  hands  does  not  take  a  strong 
and  vital  hold  upon  the  heart  of  the  seer;  that  pictures  of  wild  and  nigged 
Alpine  scenery,  for  example,  can  never  be  particularly  impressive.  ( )f  course, 
he  does  not  insist  upon  the  introduction  of  figures  of  men,  women,  or  chil- 
dren ;  the  human  element  is  contained  as  truly  in  a  tilled  field  or  in  a  clearing ; 
but  this  element  he  would  always  have  present  if  the  painting  is  successfully 
and  permanently  to  appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  the  person  who  beholds  it. 
Man  can  sympathize  deeply  with  presentations  of  natural  scenes  only  when 
in  these  scenes  is  discerned  the  presence  of  himself.  The  spirit  of  the  age  in 
art-matters,  however,  takes  a  much  wider  view.  It  recognizes  beauty  every- 
where ;  it  says  that  a  really  ugly  thing  does  not  exist.  Diaz  takes  the 
decayed  trunks  of  trees  and  adorns  them  with  light ;  Rousseau  makes  lichens, 
moss-covered  rocks,  and  forest-grasses  smile.  These  objects  have  a  human  ele- 
ment, to  be  sure,  but  the  painter  gave  it  to  them.  "  Let  us  imagine,''  says  the 
editor  of  Appletons1  Journal,  while  discussing  this  subject,  "  a  painting  of  a 
forest  interior,  the  solitudes  of  which  are  disturbed  by  no  human  presence. 
If  this  picture  is  full  of  imaginative  power  and  strong  sympathies,  if  the 
painter  felt  the  scene  in  all  its  beauties  and  charms,  the  spectator  identifies 
with  it  the  full  beat  of  human  interest.  The  cool  shadows  are  to  him  a 
dream  of  delicious  rest ;  the  fall  of  the  brook  over  the  stones  sends  musical 
murmurs  to  his  ear ;  he  feels  the  pleasant  wind  fan  his  cheek ;  the  sun- 
shine that  flecks  through  the  leaves  charms  bis  eye  with  its  shifting  play 
of  light ;  odors  from  the  mosses  and  aromatic  plants  seem  to  fill  his  nostrils  ; 
the  scene  in  its  completeness  takes  possession  of  his  whole  nature,  fills  him 
with  a  subdued  rapture,  becomes  an  embodiment  of  his  emotions.  If  the  for- 
est-scene has  no  power  of  this  kind  over  one's  imagination,  it  is  less  than  noth- 
ing :  the  value  and  charm  of  the  picture  are  in  its  control  over  the  human 
senses,  in  its  power  to  transport  the  spectator  there  and  permit  him  to  fill  it 


21 


SS  AM  ERIC  AX    PAINTERS. 

with  his  own  personality.  In  this  way  a  human  element  may  and  does  enter 
landscape-art  effectively,  efficiently,  and  to  the  complete  identification  of  the 
scene  with  our  emotions  and  our  susceptibilities.  The  mere  introduction  of 
figures  cannot  of  itself  create  human  interest ;  if  they  form  a  part  of  the  pict- 
ure in  such  a  way  as  to  strengthen  the  sentiment  of  the  landscape,  well  and 
good  ;  if  not,  they  weaken  if  they  do  not  destroy  the  very  human  interest  to 
the  end  of  which  they  are  imported  into  the  scene.  It  is  clear  that  the  value 
and  character  of  a  painting  do  not  depend  upon  rides  at  all,  but  upon  the 
imagination  of  the  painter,  lacking  which  his  human  figures  will  have  no 
human  vitality  or  hold  ;  possessing  which,  his  solemn,  empty  forest-depths 
will  be  full  of  human  feeling." 


The  greatest  of  Boston  painters,  and  one  of  the  few  really  great  American 
painters,  Mr.  William  Morris  Hunt,  was  born  in  Brattleboro,  Vermont,  on 
the  31st  of  March,  1824,  and  became  a  student  in  Harvard  College  in  1840. 
Six  years  afterward  he  began  to  study  sculpture  in  Dusseldorf.  He  staid 
there  nine  months,  then  threw  away  his  clay  and  hastened  to  Paris — to  Cou- 
ture's  studio,  and  to  Jean  Francois  Millet's  heart.  He  lived  about  ten  years 
in  Europe.  In  1855  he  went  back  to  Boston,  where,  and  at  Newport,  his 
home  has  been  ever  since. 

If  ever  there  existed  a  friendship  between  two  artists,  Mr.  Hunt  and  M. 
Millet  were  friends  ;  and  if  ever  one  artist  influenced  another,  William  Morris 
Hunt  was  influenced  by  Jean  Francois  Millet.  In  the  atelier  of  Couture,  Mr. 
Hunt  learned  art-rules ;  in  the  companionship  of  Millet,  he  obtained  inspira- 
tion and  regeneration.  The  true  interpretation  of  Mi-.  Hunt's  best  works  is 
possible  only  to  the  sympathetic  and  thorough  student  of  Millet's  works. 
The  impression  made  upon  Mr.  Hunt  by  his  pupilage  under  Couture  is  get- 
ting fainter  every  day  ;  but  the  impression  made  upon  him  by  his  intercourse 
with  Millet  is  deep  in  the  structure  of  his  mind,  growing  with  his  growth  and 
strengthening  with  his  strength.  When  Millet  was  unknown  in  this  country, 
Mr.  Hunt  was  his  devotee ;  when  even  France  herself  had  not  yet  recognized 
his  genius,  Mr.  Hunt  was  buying  his  pictures.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  true 
that  Mr.  Hunt  is  an  entirely  original  artist,  and  that  every  picture  of  his  is  a 


s    £ 


W  ILL  I  A  M    M  o  I;  It  i  S    II  V  N  T. 


M) 


spontaneous  and  independent  product.  Nature  reveals  herself  in  the  same 
dress  and  with  the  same  facial  expression  to  both  men ;  and  both  men  respond 
heartily  to  her  and  woo  her. 

The  most  important  contribution  to  the  literature  of  art  by  an  American 
is  Mr.  Hunt's  "Talks  on  Art" — a  book  which  Mr.  Hunt  himself  did  not  write. 
For  years  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  meeting  a  class  of  drawing-students  in 
Boston,  and,  in  a  free  aud  off-hand  fashion,  telling  them  what  lie  knows  and 
believes  concerning  the  subject  that  chiefly  interested  them.  A  member  of 
this  class,  Miss  Helen  M.  Knowlton,  herself  an  accomplished  and  successful 
young  painter,  jotted  down  on  stray  scraps  of  paper  many  of  the  utterances  of 
her  teacher,  and  sent  them  to  a  Boston  journal.  Afterward,  with  his  consent, 
she  gathered  many  of  them  into  a  volume  which  she  called  "  Talks  on  Art,'1 
and  has  seen  circulated  extensively  in  America,  and  reprinted,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  very  favorably  reviewed,  in  England.  Through  her  courtesy,  we 
have  received  a  number  of  the  original  contributions  to  the  Boston  journal, 
and  also  some  additional  reports  of  Mr.  Hunt's  speeches,  which,  having  never 
before  been  printed,  are  now  for  the  first  time  given  to  the  public.  These 
latest  and  freshest  passages  are  the  following  : 

"  My  little  book,  '  Talks  on  Art,'  was  written  for  mere  students,  but  great  artists  read 
it.  You  may  say  it  was  contradictory,  but  it  was  addressed  to  different  students.  Some 
of  them  needed  hasty-pudding,  some  Albert  Diirer." 

"  Keep  your  love  of  Nature  keen.  The  moment  you  think  how  to  do  it,  then  you 
don't  paint  unconsciously." 

"  I  like  to  see  the  most  finished  things  in  the  world  ;  but  I  want  to  see  things  begun." 

"  When  you  paint  what  you  see,  you  paint  an  object.  When  you  paint  what  you  feel, 
you  make  a  poem." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  the  latest  French  school.  The  true  French  masters  came  in  a 
great  wave,  which  began  with  Gericault  and  ended  with  Daiibigny.  All  the  facile  doing 
of  the  men  of  to-day  does  not  count,  and  never  will.  It  is  merely  a  mercantile  develop- 
ment. These  men  might  have  painted  differently.  It  is  this  looking  after  perfection  that 
I  tell  you  not  to  do." 

"  Do  what  you  do  while  you  do  it,  with  thumbs  or  elbows." 

"  There's  going  to  be  painting  that's  perfectly  simple — the  simple  expression  of  simple 
forms.     To  do  this  a  man  must  be  tremendously  strong." 

"  Conveniences  are  often  an  inconvenience,  and  my  usual  course  has  been  to  dispense 


90  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

with  them.  However,  1  was  once  in  Berville's  shop  in  Paris,  and  he  wanted  me  to  buy 
a  box  of  materials  for  charcoal-drawing.  I  didn't  want  it,  but  he  kept  pressing  it  upon 
me,  and  at  last  I  took  it,  simply  because  I  could  not  hold  out  any  longer.  And  that  box 
was  the  beginning  of  all  the  '  charcoal-drawing '  in  my  classes — of  my  having  any  class,  in 
fact ;  for  I  took  it  with  me  to  Brittany,  and  liked  it  very  much.  I  had  hardly  ever  used 
charcoal  before,  and  when  I  made  sketches  they  were  on  scraps  of  paper  which  were  easily 
lost.  But  this  little  box  kept  my  things  together,  and  interested  me  in  that  way  of  draw- 
ing." 

Other  of  Mv.  Hunt's  instructions,  as  reported  by  Miss  Knowlton,  are  as 
follows : 

"  Paint  what  you  see  and  what  you  feel,  if  it's  nothing  but  a  cat.  You  can't  paint  a 
scene  that  you  saw  years  ago,  and  of  which  you  have  only  a  literal  drawing.  If  you've 
forgotten  the  poetry  and  the  mystery,  you  can't  get  it  again.  It's  the  way  you  look  at  a 
thing  that  makes  the  picture  !     It  isn't  paint,  or  the  way  in  which  paint  is  put  on  !  " 

"  Painting  is  only  an  adjunct.  A  drawing  is  often  better  than  a  painting — more  apt 
to  be  kept  inside  of  the  frame — a  truth  which  some  critics  never  will  find  out." 

"  You  canH  help  doing  your  own  way.  You  come  here  to  be  shown  somebody  else's 
way.  Where's  the  person  that  ever  did  anything  without  knowing  what  others  had  done 
before  him  ?     Why  can  we  talk  ?     Because  we  are  talking  all  the  time." 

"  Going  to  paint  that  in  to-day  \  Well,  then,  crack  ahead  !  Do  it !  Don't  be  afraid  ! 
The  moment  you're  afraid,  you  might  as  well  be  in  Hanover  Street,  shopping  !  We  have 
got  to  have  faith  in  the  biggest  people  that  have  ever  done  anything.  If  we  can  find 
out  a  way  of  doing  our  work  with  less  expense,  all  right !  Paul  Veronese  gives  you  the 
resume  of  a  thing.  Velasquez  painted  hands  with  two  strokes  of  the  brush.  Near  the 
canvas  you  would  say  that  his  hands  had  but  three  fingers  each  ;  but,  at  the  distance  at 
which  they  were  meant  to  be  seen,  they  were  real  hands !  Now,  it  would  be  very  easy  for 
me  to  say  '  Yes ! '  to  your  admiration  of  painters  who  are  not  the  greatest ;  and  it  isn't 
what  might  be  called  '  pleasant '  for  me  to  combat  your  ideas.  But,  in  spite  of  what  you 
may  think  of  me,  I  have  a  firm  conviction  that  you  haven't  the  true  idea  of  great  art ! 
Besides,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  you  haven't  a  right,  at  the  age  of  twenty  years,  to  pro- 
nounce judgment  on  these  great  artists,  who  may  never  be  equaled,  never  can  be  excelled! 
I  have  disliked  pictures  so  much  that  I  afterward  found  were  good,  that  I  want  to  hint  to 
you  that  you  may,  some  day,  want  an  outlet  from  the  opinions  you  now  hold.  The  fact  is, 
we  must  take,  in  the  works  of  these  men,  what  you  call  faults,  and  ask  ourselves  if  they 
were  not,  perhaps,  qualities. 

-  What  a  time  has  been  made  over  Michael  Angelo's  'Moses,'  with  his  homs !  Mi- 
chael Angelo  felt  that  Moses  must  have  horns  !     To  represent  him  he  must  have  some- 


5 


z 
w 

o 

X 
0 

0 

2 

£ 

Q. 


$ 


WILLIAM    MORRIS    HUNT.  gi 

thing  more  than  a  man  with  a  full  beard,  and  sou  must  accepi  these  horns  jusi  as  vou 
would  a  word  which  some  poet  had  felt  the  need  of,  and  had  coined.  A>  Michael  An- 
gelo  was  the  greatest  creator  that  ever  worked  in  art,  hadn't  we  better  decide  thai  we'll 
wait  fifteen  minutes  before  passing  judgment  upon  him,  or  upon  whal  he  did  '.  " 

"Instead  of  one  canvas  ready  to  paint  on,  you  ought  to  have  forty,  and  paint  for  a 
joke!  I  have  a  hundred  and  fifty  in  waiting,  and  each  of  you  ought  to  have  ten  at  least. 
You  always  have  gloves  to  wear.     You  need  canvases  just  as  much." 

"  I've  just  finished  this  little  sketch,  painting  it  in  twenty  minutes,  \\  itli  the  intention 
simply  of  getting  light  in  a  sky.  When  I  left  it,  I  thought,  '  The  first  person  who  comes 
in  will  say,  "  Oh,  trying  to  pamt  like  Corot !  "  I  wasn't  trying  to  paint  like  any  one  : 
but  I  know  that  when  I  look  at  Nature  I  think  of  Millet,  Corot,  Delacroix,  and  sometimes 
of  Daubigny.  Just  as  if  we  were  to  write  a  line  of  poetry  that  hit  the  nail  sharp  upon 
the  head,  it  might  make  us  think  of  Shakespeare  /" 

"  You  soften  the  fibre  of  your  memory  by  fastening  yourself  too  closely  to  your  work 
and  your  model.  You  could  come  here  and  look  at  that  figure,  and  go  away  and  draw  it. 
if  you  had  accustomed  yourself  to  work  in  that  way.  Some  niceties  of  Nature  you  must 
correct  and  refine  from  life  ;  but  you  can  get  values,  proportion,  etc.,  by  observation  and 
memory.  Some  of  the  most  vivid  renderings  of  Nature  have  been  done  after  Nature  had 
passed.  How  else  can  you  paint  a  thunder-shower,  a  sunset,  a  flying  cloud,  a  galloping 
horse  \  You  don't  trust  yourself  enough.  You  are  too  timid.  If  you  were  to  have  that 
head  only  four  minutes  yon  would  put  in  something  that  would  be  like  it ;  but,  if  you  are 
to  have  it  all  day,  you  twist  it  all  out  of  shape.  If  I  were  to  show  that  sketch  of  mine 
to  some  people  they  would  say,  '  It  looks  as  if  you  had  daubed  stuff  around  upon  that  can- 
vas ! '  I  should  feel  tempted  to  say  that  they  might  '  daub  stuff '  around,  and  not  get  so 
much  of  a  picture  as  that  even  !  I  am  trying,  first  of  all,  to  get  a  simple,  luminous  color. 
I  don't  want  to  make  it  like  the  color  of  any  painted  sky  that  I  ever  saw.  I  want.  I  say. 
a  simple,  luminous  color.  Don't  bother  too  much  about  color!  Get  the  effect  of  light, 
and  you  won't  miss  color.  I  know  that  my  pictures  are  said  to  '  lack  color  : '  but  I  don't 
like  a  great  many  things  which  people  admire  for  their  '  color.'  " 

"  {Moonlight.)  You  don't  have  to  be  literal  to  a  line  to  make  an  impression.  Moon- 
light pictures  are  apt  to  look  as  if  you  had  dipped  the  thing  in  ink  and  half  washed  it  out. 
This  sketch  looks  like  one  thing,  instead  of  sixteen — which  is  one  good  quality." 

"  Don't  despise  anything  which  you  have  honestly  done  from  Nature.  There's  a 
sketch  which,  when  I  brought  it  home,  seemed  only  a  patch  of  bright  green  there,  of 
violet  there,  and  of  orange  here.  But,  a  year  later,  I  chanced  upon  it,  and  found  that  it 
was  an  impression  from  Nature  ;  and  that's  what  our  sketches  ought  to  be." 

"  If  you  are  determined  to  paint  you  won't  mind  what  kind  of  things  you  use  to  paint 
with.  I  remember  when  I  sketched  that  ploughiug-scene  I  had  only  a  butter-box  for  a 
22 


92  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

palette,  a  brush  or  two,  and  a  palette-knife.     For  rubbing  in  a  velvet  coat,  sometimes  noth- 
ing works  better  than  the  palm  of  your  hand." 

"  You  can't  do  good  work  unless  you  are  physically  in  order  for  it.  It  requires  as 
much  strength  to  paint  well  as  to  plough." 

"  In  charcoal-drawing  leave  your  darks  as  you  first  put  them  in.  You  want  the  fresh 
velvet  of  an  untouched  black.     You  lose  it  when  you  begin  to  work  upon  it." 

"  If  you  leave  a  large  surface  to  paint  over,  get  sash-tools  from  the  paint-shop  and  do 
it  at  once.  I  believe  that  the  old  painters  used  these  brushes,  certainly  for  skies,  back- 
grounds, and  draperies.  At  any  rate,  they  painted  broadly  and  frankly,  and  they  couldn't 
have  done  it  with  such  brashes  as  we  buy  nowadays,  long,  flimsy,  weak  things,  or  else  stiff 
and  unyielding.  If  you  want  to  know  what  brushes  to  use,  watch  the  painters  at  work 
on  windows  and  doors." 

"  We  stupidly  suppose  that  what  is  called  finish,  or  outside-work,  gives  value  to  a 
thing.  It  is  too  much  like  the  mince-pie  given  to  a  boarding-school  boy  at  his  last  dinner 
of  the  term.  It  may  deceive  a  little,  but  it  don't  mend  matters.  The  finish  should  be 
done  in  the  same  mood  with  the  beginning.  A  highly-finished  imbecility  is  worth  no 
more  than  an  imbecility.  Adapt  your  finish  to  the  stuff  that's  underneath,  and  let  it  be 
of  one  piece ;  and  don't  try  to  make  believe  that  you  know  more  than  you  do.  Don't 
smooth  your  mashed  potato  with  a  knife  !  This  much-admired  finish  is  like  the  archi- 
tecture that  the  countryman  said  was  going  to  be  put  upon  his  house  by  a  Boston  man 
after  it  was  built !  Oh,  think  of  a  last  week's  meat-pie  with  the  added  truthful  date  of 
to-day  stamped  upon  its  crust  for  a  finish  !  This  kind  of  thing  may  do  in  putting  up 
mackerel  and  blackberries,  but  it  won't  answer  in  pictures.  If  the  truth  isn't  the  funda- 
mental part,  there's  no  use  in  adding  it  as  embroidery.     Tinkering  isn't  painting  !  " 

During  the  last  five  or  six  years  Mr.  Hunt  has  painted  many  landscapes. 
His  earlier  works  were  portraits  and  figure-pieces.  To  the  first  exhibition  of 
the  Society  of  American  Artists  he  contributed  an  unfinished  portrait  of  a 
lady,  which  was  very  delicate  and  harmonious  in  color  and  rich  in  suggestive- 
ness ;  but  the  most  of  his  later  pictures  are  never  exhibited  publicly  except  in 
his  own  private  gallery  overlooking  Boston  Common.  In  the  summer  of  1878, 
in  a  shop  in  that  city,  there  hung  a  picture  of  a  sweet  and  serious  girl  of  fif- 
teen years,  which  was  as  winning  in  sentiment  and  as  full  of  tenderest  poetic 
feeling  as  any  work  of  Millet's  that  we  have  seen.  The  treatment  was  as 
broad  and  cool  as  Millet's,  and  the  technique  in  every  respect  as  good.  Mr. 
Hunt's  landscapes  are  low-toned,  simple  in  subject,  masterly  in  the  rendering 
of  atmosphere  and  atmospheric  effects,  luminous,  and  the  records  of  distinct 


ft 

'3 


ROBERT    SWAIN    OIFFORD.  93 

impressions  from  Nature.  The  quoted  extracts  from  his  conversations  tell 
clearly  what  he  tries  to  do.  Though  not  a  colorist  in  the  supreme  sense  that 
Troyon  was,  he  is  a  true  artist. 


When  Mr.  Robert  Swain  Gifford  was  elected  an  Academician  in  1x7*, 
the  National  Academy  of  Design  distinguished  itself.  Some  years  ajro  the  con- 
ferring of  that  honor  would  have  given  him  distinction.  The  institution,  how- 
ever, gained  by  procrastination  ;  in  finally  electing  Mr.  Gifford  it  added  to  its 
own  laurels.  The  new  member  was  born  on  the  island  of  Naushon,  in  Buz. 
zard's  Bay,  near  the  coast  of  Massachusetts,  on  the  23d  of  December,  1840. 
He  went  to  school  in  New  Bedford,  and  opposite  that  place,  in  the  village  of 
Fairhaven,  he  met  the  Dutch  marine  painter,  Albert  Van  Beest.  It  would  be 
incorrect  to  say  that  his  acquaintance  with  the  Dutch  painter  made  Mr. 
Gifford  an  artist,  because  Mr.  Gifford  was  an  artist  potentially  the  day  on 
which  he  first  opened  his  eyes ;  but  the  influence  of  Van  Beest  on  the  schoolboy 
of  New  Bedford  was  a  felicitous  factor  in  the  equation  of  his  life.  Van  Beest 
saw  promise  in  Gilford's  drawings,  took  a  fancy  to  the  maker  of  them,  in- 
structed him  in  the  rudiments  of  art,  and  used  him  as  an  assistant.  The  pupil 
was  soon  graduated  in  his  master's  studio.  In  186-4  he  opened  a  studio  of  his 
own  in  Boston,  and,  two  years  later,  in  New  York.  To  the  Academy  Exhibi- 
tion in  1867  he  sent  three  marine  paintings — "  Scene  at  Long  Branch,"  "  Cliff- 
Scene,  Grand  Menan,"  and  "Vineyard  Sound  Light-ship" — and  on  their  merits 
was  elected  an  associate  member  of  the  institution.  This  event  terminated 
the  first  period  of  his  career. 

The  second  period  began  when,  in  1869,  he  spent  the  summer  and  autumn 
in  California  and  Oregon.  He  was  extending  his  operations  into  the  domain 
of  landscape.  In  1870  he  visited  England,  France,  Italy,  Spain,  Morocco,  and 
Egypt,  and  went  over  much  of  the  ground  that  Mr.  Samuel  Colman  had  re- 
cently traversed,  directing  especial  attention  to  the  Moorish  houses  of  Tan- 
gier, to  the  aspects  of  the  region  adjoining  the  Great  Desert  and  to  the  scenery 
of  the  Nile.  In  1873  and  1874  he  exhibited  in  New  York  some  of  the 
trophies  of  his  tour,  and  in  the  latter  year,  after  his  marriage  to  Miss 
Eliot,  of  Massachusetts   (whose  pencil  has  since  given  pleasure  to  admirers 


94  AMERICA  X    PAINTERS. 

of  the  beautiful  in  art),  made  a  second  trip  to  Europe  and  Africa.  This 
time  he  went  to  France  and  Algeria,  and  pitched  his  tent  in  the  Desert  of 
Sahara  itself.  "An  Egyptian  Caravan"  was  sent  by  him  to  the  Academy 
Exhibition  of  1 876.  He  received  a  medal  at  the  Centennial  Exhibition  in 
Philadelphia. 

His  third  period  dates  from  the  organization,  in  1877,  of  the  Society  of 
American  Artists,  of  which  he  is  a  leading  member,  and  to  the  first  exhibition 
of  which  in  the  following  year  he  contributed  his  "  Cedars  of  New  England," 
owned  by  Mr.  George  E.  Clark.  This  picture  was  his  representative  in  the 
Paris  Exhibition  of  1878,  and  the  critic  of  the  London  Athenmim  said  of  it : 
"  It  is  an  excellent  motive,  showing  feeling  for  effect ;  more  serious  study  and 
attempt  at  realization  would  have  resulted  in  a  valuable  picture" — a  criticism 
entirely  characteristic  of  an  Englishman  who  would  define  art  itself  to  be  "  an 
attempt  at  realization."  M.  Charles  Blanc,  the  French  critic,  says  that  Eng- 
land has  never  had  any  really  great  artists,  and  insinuates,  if  he  does  not 
assert,  that  she  does  not  know  what  art  is ;  the  London  Spectator  a  few 
months  ago  feared  that  "  under  the  press  of  Manchester  patronage  and  Aca- 
demic criticism,"  the  "  higher  imaginative  art "  had  "  almost  breathed  its  last 
breath  "  in  the  land  of  Landseer  and  Holman  Hunt ;  and  Mi1.  Mark  Pattison, 
the  accomplished  Rector  of  Lincoln  College,  Oxford,  affirms  that  during  the 
last  twenty  years  English  taste  has  retrograded  rather  than  advanced.  These 
eminent  authorities  may  or  may  not  be  trustworthy  ;  certainly  there  is  noth- 
ing in  the  London  Athenaeum's  criticism  of  Mr.  Gilford's  picture  to  throw 
suspicion  upon  the  truth  of  their  testimony.  Neither  the  "  Cedars  of  New 
England  "  nor  any  other  of  Mr.  Gifford's  riper  works  is  or  was  intended  to  be 
"an  attempt  at  realization."  Mr.  Giftbrd  does  not  make  such  an  attempt. 
He  knows  that  it  would  be  in  the  first  place*  useless,  because  Art  never  can 
compete  with  Nature,  but  always  fails  when  trying  to  do  so  ;  and,  in  the  sec- 
ond place,  foolish,  because  Art  has  a  sphere  of  her  own,  in  which  she  is  greater 
than  Nature.  Madame  Tussaud's  wax-figures  are  very  earnest  and  laborious 
"  attempts  at  realization,"  but  probably  no  adult  human  being  who  can  read 
and  write  ever  supposed  that  they  are  works  of  art. 

Mi'.  Giftbrd  puts  himself  in  his  pictures.  His  landscapes  are  something 
more  than  mere  scenes  in  Nature.     They  are  Nature,  to  be  sure,  but  Nature 


THE     PALMS     OF     BISKRA. 
From  a  Painting  by  Robert  Swain  Giffi»</. 


p.  95. 


ROBERT    S  WA  IN    0  I  FF  <>  RD.  95 

as  he  views  her,  and  Nature  with  a  revelation  of  his  own  feelings  toward  her. 
The  impress  of  the  man  is  left  upon  the  work,  and  the  work  is  the  measure  of 
the  man.  He  lias  something  fresh  to  tell  us  about  what  we  already  know  a 
good  deal,  and,  in  addition,  he  explains  to  us  how  this  something  has  gone 
straight  to  his  heart,  and  has  stirred  his  emotions.  In  the  last  analysis  the 
worth  of  an  artist's  performance  depends  upon  the  worth  of  the  artist  himself; 
his  character  as  well  as  his  genius  is  displayed  and  defined  in  his  works.  An 
ordinary  landscape,  seen  through  his  eyes,  becomes  full  of  mystery  and  of 
meaning ;  "  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  "  can,  when  he  has  placed  it  on  the 
canvas,  "give  thoughts  that  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears."  Mr.  Gifford  will 
paint  a  barren  moor  under  a  leaden  sky  so  that  it  shall  almost  palpitate  with 
emotion.  His  vigorous,  healthy,  and  educated  mind  is  worth  listening  to 
when  talking  about  the  contact  of  itself  with  Nature.  For  perfection  of  tech- 
nique— that  first  requirement  of  modern  art — he  has  the  profoundest  respect ; 
he  is  an  indefatigable  student,  and  he  appreciates  the  finest  efforts  of  the  latest 
masters.  The  fustian  and  sensationalism  of  the  Diisseldorf  school  are  an  of- 
fense in  his  eyes ;  his  tastes  are  refined  and  his  music  is  soft  and  low,  like  the 
wind  of  the  Western  sea. 

When  the  American  Society  of  Painters  in  Water-Colors  was  organized, 
Mr.  Gifford  became  one  of  its  most  conspicuous  members.  His  contributions 
to  the  annual  exhibitions  of  the  society  are  always  among  the  striking  things 
on  the  walls.  In  1867  he  sent  his  "  Deserted  Whaler,"  an  old  Nantucket  ves- 
sel stranded  on  the  sandy  beach  of  a  barren  island  after  hard  service  in  the 
northern  latitudes.  Over  her  empty  decks,  and  strained,  worn  timbers,  the  sea- 
gulls are  flying.  The  title  of  the  picture  is  a  summary  of  the  story,  and  there 
is  not  a  line  or  tint  on  the  canvas  that  does  not  help  the  telling.  We  feel  the 
subject  at  once ;  the  sentiment  of  the  scene  is  deep  and  vital.  This  work  is 
now  in  the  private  gallery  of  Mr.  James  M.  Burt,  of  Brooklyn.  In  general, 
it  may  be  said  of  Mr.  Gifford's  pictures  in  water-colors  that  they  have  the  two 
excellences  of  being  serious  and  of  being  sketchy.  They  are  effects  worth 
striving  for,  and  they  are  not  wrought  up  to  too  high  a  pitch— not  "  finished  " 
to  mere  prettiness  and  inaneness ;  and,  since  the  tendency  of  modern  water- 
color  art  is  neither  toward  robustness  of  conception  nor  toward  simplicity  and 

rapidity  of  execution,  the  presence  of  these  qualities  is  the  more  noticeable 
23 


9f,  -1  M  E  R  IGA  N    PA  INTERS. 

and  pleasurable.     It  is  something  in  these  days  to  see  a  strong  motive  at  the 
bottom  of  a  wort  in  water-colors. 

Mr.  Robert  Gordon  owns  Mr.  Giftbrd's  "  Halt  in  the  Desert ;  "  Mr.  Henry 
E.  Lawrence,  his  "  Fountain  near  Cairo  ;  "  Mr.  Charles  L.  Tiffany,  his  "  Scene 
at  Boulak,  Egypt ;  "  and  Miss  Hitchcock,  his  "  Lazy  Day  in  Cairo."  We  have 
engraved  two  other  Oriental  subjects,  "  The  Palms  of  Biskra,  Sahara  Desert," 
and  "  On  the  Nile."  In  1873  the  artist  sent  to  the  National  Academy  Exhi- 
bition in  New  York  his  "Entrance  to  a  Moorish  House  in  Tangier,"  his  "View 
of  the  Golden  Horn,"  and  his  "  Scene  in  the  Great  Square  of  the  Rumeyleh, 
Cairo,  Egypt."  In  1874  he  contributed  his  "  Desert-Scene,"  his  "  Halting  for 
Water"  and  his  "Evening  on  the  Nile."  His  range  of  landscapes  is  unusually 
wide.  He  has  painted  the  heights  of  the  Sierras,  the  plains  of  Brittany 
and  of  New  England,  as  well  as  these  Eastern  scenes. 


Walter  Shirlaw  was  born  in  Paisley,  Scotland,  August  6,  1837.  When 
two  or  three  years  old  he  was  brought  by  his  parents  to  this  country,  and 
when  fourteen  years  old  was  apprenticed  by  them  to  a  bank-note  engraving 
company.  He  took  some  lessons  in  the  school  of  the  National  Academy  of 
Design.  For  five  years  he  was  in  the  employ  of  the  Western  Bank-Note 
Company  of  Chicago  ;  and  for  one  year  was  an  instructor  in  the  Academy  of 
Design  in  that  city.  In  1859  he  Avent  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  He  has 
studied  art  six  years  in  Munich. 

Mr.  Shirlaw  has  only  recently  become  known  in  New  York  as  an  artist. 
It  was  his  "  Sheep-Shearing  in  the  Bavarian  Highlands,"  exhibited  in  the 
National  Academy  in  1877,  that  first  brought  him  into  favorable  notice  here, 
although  to  the  Centennial  Exhibition  in  Philadelphia  in  the  preceding  year 
he  had  sent  two  important  works.  One  of  these,  called  "  The  Toning  of  the 
Bell,"  represents  a  scene  in  a  Bavarian  foundery.  A  large  church-bell  lies  on 
its  side  on  the  ground.  A  workman  leaning  over  it  proceeds  to  test  its  sound, 
while  a  violinist  near  by  gives  the  key-note.  Several  children,  introduced 
into  the  picture,  are  greatly  interested  in  the  proceedings.  The  other  work 
was  "  Feeding  the  Geese,"  a  name  which  the  artist  afterward  abandoned  for 
"  Good-Morn  nig.'1     The  title  first  selected  describes  the  production,  the  feeder 


THE     TONING      OF     THE      BELL. 
From  a  Painting  l>y    Walter  Shirlaw. 


p.  96. 


hi  l  ter   Hn  in  la  w. 


97 


of  the  animals  being  a  stout,  buxom  Bavarian  woman.  This  canvas  was 
displayed  at  the  exhibition  of  the  Society  of  American  Artists  in  1878  in 
New  York.  In  the  National  Academy  Exhibition  of  the  same  year  Mr. 
Shirlaw  appeared  with  a  portrait  of  himself,  and  a  picture  of  a  naked 
boy  holding  an  impetuous  dog  by  a  string.  One  of  his  latest  tasks  has 
been  the  furnishing  of  illustrations  to  a  monthly  magazine.  His  studio  is  in 
Booth's  Theatre  Building  at  Sixth  Avenue  and  Twenty-third  Street.  Last 
year  he  was  teacher  of  drawing  in  the  Art-Students'  League — a  position  which 
this  year  is  held  by  Mr.  William  M.  Chase,  who  also  has  recently  returned 
from  Munich.  Mr.  Shirlaw  was  one  of  the  leaders  in  the  new  movement 
which  culminated  in  the  formation  of  the  American  Art  Association,  after- 
ward called  the  Society  of  American  Artists.  He  is  the  president  of  tins 
organization.  Last  June  he  was  elected  an  Associate  of  the  New  York  Na- 
tional Academy  of  Design. 

Mr.  Shirlaw  has  so  lately  been  a  student  in  the  Munich  ateliers,  and  his 
best  works  are  so  suggestive  of  masters  at  that  great  art-centre,  that  an  esti- 
mate of  his  methods  and  his  abilities  cannot  now,  perhaps,  be  justly  and  intel- 
ligently undertaken.  His  friends  expect  to  see  much  stronger  and  more 
original  work  from  his  brush  than  he  has  yet  shown  ;  and  so  industrious  and 
capable  is  he  that  this  expectation  is  an  entirely  rational  one.  Meanwhile, 
his  reputation  is  already  wider  than  that  of  most  young  artists  here.  His 
draughtsmanship,  to  be  sure,  is  not  yet  perfect ;  but  he  has  manifested  a  very 
decided  feeling  for  richness  of  tone  and  for  color-values.  He  paints  broadly, 
of  course — that  is  to  be  taken  for  granted  in  the  case  of  a  Munich  student 
— -yet  not  nearly  so  broadly  as  do  many  of  his  fellow-pupils  ;  and,  since  he 
appreciates  and  to  some  distance  penetrates  into  both  the  fullness  and  the 
energy  of  Nature,  by-and-by  doubtless  his  figures  will  be  deeper  in  significance. 
He  knows  what  is  meant  by  singleness  of  thought  and  by  concentration  of 
means ;  and  he  cares  much  more  for  the  grammar,  the  rhetoric,  and  the  phi- 
losophy of  his  art  than  for  its  subject-matter.  In  the  Paris  Exhibition  of 
1878  his  pictures  received  as  much  notice  as  those  of  any  other  American. 


98  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

What  has  been  called  the  dreamy  softness  of  Weber's  music  may,  perhaps, 
be  said  to  have  a  parallel  in  the  pictures  of  Mr.  Wortiiington  Whittredge, 
who  was  born  in  Ohio,  in  1820,  when  that  State  was  little  more  than  a  wil- 
derness. In  early  manhood  he  went  to  Cincinnati,  then  the  Queen  City  of  the 
West,  and  devoted  his  attention  to  mercantile  pursuits.  There  he  became 
acquainted  with  Henry  K.  Brown,  the  celebrated  sculptor,  James  H.  Beard, 
the  animal-painter,  and  several  enthusiastic  patrons  of  art — for  Cincinnati  did 
not  first  exhibit  its  devotion  to  the  Muses  when  it  allured  Theodore  Thomas 
from  the  metropolis  of  the  nation.  The  landscapes  of  Cole,  Durand,  and 
Doughty,  and  the  portraits  of  Jarves,  Chester  Harding,  and  Thomas  Sully,  were 
housed  in  some  of  the  private  galleries  of  the  city ;  and  Whittredge,  whose 
tastes  had  constantly  made  the  counting-room  odious  to  him,  found  himself  as 
an  art-student  in  the  company  of  troops  of  friends,  while  his  rare  capacity  for 
making  friends  served  him  to  good  purpose,  as  it  has  many  times  since.  The 
artists  and  the  connoisseurs  of  Cincinnati  encouraged  him  to  the  lattermost. 

It  was  natural  for  him  to  turn  his  attention  first  to  portrait-painting. 
Most  American  painters  did  so  at  an  early  period  of  their  career,  not  because 
such  work  was  in  all  cases  the  most  attractive  to  them,  but  because  it  was  the 
most  lucrative.  It  is  also  more  or  less  easy  to  paint  portraits  in  a  new  coun- 
try, where  the  demands  of  sitters  are  not  invariably  of  the  strictest  or  largest 
sort.  The  likenesses  of  our  ancestors  hanging,  alas  !  too  often  not  in  our  par- 
lors, but  in  less  favored  apartments,  tell  an  interesting  story  of  the  ease  with 
which  those  venerated  persons  were  satisfied  by  the  rude  forefathers  of  the 
pencil.  Whittredge  painted  portraits  and  earned  his  living  with  thanks  from 
the  men  and  women  who  sat  for  him. 

The  primeval  forests  of  Ohio  had  long  been  a  source  of  inspiration  to  the 
young  artist.  Landscapes,  without  a  single  human  element,  were  his  delight. 
He  reproduced  them  on  his  canvases,  and  then  laid  them  aside  and  painted 
them  over  again.  He  loved  them  as  Rousseau  loved  them — Rousseau,  whose 
aims  and  methods  are  at  the  farthest  divergence  from  his  own.  The  friends 
who  had  helped  him  when  he  dealt  in  portraits  stood  nobly  by  him  in  his 
new  departure.  They  gave  him  plenty  of  commissions,  and  enabled  him  to 
go  to  Europe.  After  making  the  usual  tour  of  London  and  Paris,  he  went  to 
Dusseldorf,  and  became  a  pupil  of  Andreas  Achenbach. 


'•  GOOD-MORNING." 
From  a  Pai)iti)ig  by    ]Valter  Shirlaw, 


p.  9a 


WORTEINOTON     WHITTREDGE.  99 

The  inquirer,  however,  who  seeks  in  Mr.  Whitf rede's  works  (lie  traces  of 
Andreas  Achenbach's  influence,  will  scarcely  find  them  there.  Nor  is  it  an 
uncommon  thing  to  see  iu  a  painters  pictures  the  presence  of  other  forces  than 
those  which  direct  the  brush  of  his  professed  master.  Mi'.  J.  Appleton 
Brown,  of  Boston,  studied  with  Lambinet,  but  communed  with  Corot.  lie 
speaks  lightly  of  Lambinet.  Mr.  William  M.  Huut,  of  the  same  city,  studied 
with  Couture,  but  it  was  from  Millet  that  he  took  his  inspiration.  The  expla- 
nation of  the  phenomenon  is  clearly  in  the  fact  that  a  pupil  is  not  always  able 
to  secure  the  teacher  that  he  prefers.  Mr.  J.  Alden  Weir,  one  of  the  most 
promising  of  our  younger  artists,  learned  the  rudiments  of  his  profession  in 
the  atelier  of  Gerome ;  but  only  a  person  who  is  color-blind  could  detect  in 
any  of  the  fine  performances  of  Mr.  Weir  the  hand  or  the  head  of  the  author 
of  "  L'Almee."  Nor  is  it  likely  that  Mr.  Whittredge's  landscapes  have  ever 
been  reminders  of  Andreas  Achenbach's  ways  and  aims.  On  the  contrary,  it 
is  of  Andreas's  brother  Oswald  that  one  thinks  when  contemplating  the  besl 
of  Mr.  Whittredge's  productions.  Oswald  Achenbach  is  a  great  painter ;  Mr. 
Sanford  Gilford,  we  believe,  esteems  him  the  greatest  of  European  landscap- 
ists.  The  mention  of  his  favorite  Italian  scenes  carries  with  it  something  of  a 
charm — a  charm  like  that  which  Hermann  Giimm  says  accompanies  the  utter- 
ance of  the  word.  "  Florence  ;  "  "  the  passionate  agitation  of  Italy's  prime  sends 
forth  its  fragrance  toward  us  like  blossom-laden  boughs,  from  whose  dusky 
shadows  we  catch  whispers  of  the  beautiful  tongue."  Oswald  Achenbach's 
conceptions  are  tender  and  delicate,  his  manner  of  execution  is  almost  spwi- 
tuel  J  he  displays  a  sensitiveness,  grace,  and  beauty,  which  one  is  not  accus- 
tomed to  look  for  in  Teutonic  art.  Andreas  Achenbach,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  as  vigorous  and  realistic  as  the  Dutch. 

Mr.  Whittredge's  "  Home  by  the  Sea-side,"  in  the  valuable  collection  of 
Mr.  Isaac  Henderson,  of  New  York  City,  is  in  all  respects  a  competent  repre- 
sentative of  his  most  characteristic  work.  The  tints  are  soft  and  seductive, 
the  composition  is  simple  and  quite  natural,  the  impression  is  one  of  expan- 
siveness  and  pleasantness  and  peace.  None  of  Ruysdael's  melancholy  nor  Tur- 
ner's solemnity  is  here ;  but  mildness  and  quietness  that  would  have  pleased 
Cuyp  or  Crome.  The  Baron  de  Constant-Rebecque  was  described  by  one  of 
his  friends  as  "  a  gentleman  grafted  on  an  artist" — a  description  that,  partly 

24 


iOO  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

absurd  though  it  is,  one  might  recall  iu  connection  with  Mr.  Whittredge. 
During  his  residence  in  Europe  the  artist  visited  Holland,  Belgium,  Italy,  and 
the  Alps.  He  staid  four  years  in  Kome,  where  there  was  a  colony  of  Ameri- 
can painters.  In  1860  he  returned  to  America  after  an  absence  of  ten  years, 
opened  a  studio  in  New  York  City,  and  was  elected  an  Academician.  Four 
years  subsequently  he  made  a  trip  to  the  Kooky  Mountains,  and  came  home 
with  a  portfolio  full  of  sketches,  two  of  which  soon  developed  themselves  into 
his  "  Old  Hunting-Ground,"  and  "  View  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  from  the 
Platte  River."  The  former  work,  now  in  the  gallery  of  Mr.  J.  W.  Pinchot,  of 
New  York  City,  was  sent  to  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1867.  Around  the  bank 
of  a  shallow  pool  where  a  deer  is  drinking  are  fine,  tall,  silvery  birches.  The 
latter  work  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Century  Club  of  New  York.  Mr.  Whit- 
tredge became  the  President  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design  in  1874. 
He  was  succeeded  in  that  position  by  Mr.  Daniel  Huntington,  the  well-known 
portrait-painter,  but  his  influence  in  the  councils  of  the  institution  is  large  and 
recognized.  When  on  one  occasion  a  by-law  had  been  passed,  by  which  eight 
feet  of  the  line  in  every  annual  exhibition  were  reserved  for  the  pictures  of 
Academicians,  Mr.  Whittredge's  voice,  loud  and  earnest  for  a  repeal,  was  heard 
and  heeded.  It  was  not  alone,  to  be  sure,  but  it  led  the  opposition  to  the 
obnoxious  statute.  At  the  sale  of  Mi-.  John  Taylor  Johnston's  celebrated  col- 
lection of  pictures  in  Chickering  Hall,  New  York,  in  December,  1876,  Mr. 
Whittredge  was  the  adviser  of  President  Garrett,  of  Baltimore,  who  bought 
many  of  the  best  and  most  valued  works. 


On  certain  favorable  occasions,  Mr.  Daniel  Huntington,  the  President  of 
the  National  Academy  of  Design,  may  easily  be  drawn  into  conversation  on 
art-matters.  His  powers  of  verbal  expression  are  above  those  of  most  of  the 
distinguished  gentlemen  over  whom  he  presides.  If  what  he  said  one  evening 
when  chatting  in  his  studio,  and  asked  many  questions  (to  which  his  answers 
were  full  and  prompt),  were  written  out  in  the  form  of  a  monologue,  it  would 
be  very  much  as  follows :  "  A  portrait  may  be  liked  by  the  family  of  the  sitter, 
while  not  liked  by  his  friends,  and  vice  versa.  I  always  wish  to  know  for 
what  purpose  it  is  wanted  before  I  begin  to  paint  it.     If  it  is  to  be  owned  by 


w        3 

S  1 


0       .9 


DANIEL    HUNTINGTON. 


101 


his  family,  I  give,  the  man  a  more  familiar  and  conversational  look  ;  if  by  a 
society,  I  try  to  represent  his  active  public  character.  The  face  of  almosl 
every  business-man  has  two  characteristic  expressions — one  rather  serious  and 
earnest,  the  other  sweet  and  cheerful,  with  gleams  of  humor  and  affection.  I 
remember  one  very  remarkable  instance  where  the  family  of  a  sitter  greatly 
liked  my  portrait,  but  his  acquaintances  did  not.  If  you  want  a  portrait  to 
look  at  you,  with  eyes  following  you  around  the  room,  it  is  better  to  be  alone 
in  the  studio  with  the  sitter,  that  he  may  get  into  relations  with  you.  But  it 
is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  you  must  be  constantly  entertaining  him — cracking 
jokes  with  him,  as  Inman  used  to  do.  The  continual  flitting  of  the  artist's 
mind  from  the  sitter  to  the  subject  talked  about,  and  from  subject  to  sitter, 
wears  him  out  very  fast.  Besides,  the  portrait  is  apt  to  have — as  most  of 
Ininau's  portraits  have — an  amused  expression,  a  sort  of  expression  that  is  just 
what  is  not  wanted.  Most  of  Stuart's  pictures  look  at  you ;  the  finest  of 
Titian's  and  of  Reynolds's  look  off.  Of  course,  there  is  no  rule  of  position, 
except  the  rule  which  requires  the  artist  to  make  the  most  of  his  subject. 
Nor  is  any  one  quality  the  test  of  excellence  in  a  portrait.  The  living  char- 
acter of  the  sitter,  which  is  what  the  portrait-painter  strives  for,  doesn't  depend 
absolutely  upon  either  correctness  of  color  or  of  drawing,  but  upon  the  gen- 
eral expression.  Absolute  truth  is  undoubtedly  in  one  sense  the  most  desir- 
able in  a  portrait,  if  the  artist  can  know  and  feel  it.  The  real  character,  not 
the  obvious  character,  is  what  he  tries  to  represent :  the  capacity,  capability, 
potentiality  of  the  man — what  the  man  was,  so  to  speak,  designed  to  be. 
Still,  it  seems  proper  that  his  finest  traits  should  be  emphasized  in  a  portrait, 
since  every  side  of  his  character  cannot  be  given  in  the  same  picture.  For 
example,  in  painting  a  lady's  portrait  wouldn't  it  be  just  to  subdue  minor  infe- 
licities of  profile  or  complexion,  to  present  the  best  of  her  appearance,  and  so 
to  make  amends  for  our  lack  of  ability  thoroughly  to  reproduce  a  human  face  ? 
That  painting,  it  seems  to  me,  is  of  a  higher  order  which  discerns  the  germs 
of  truth  in  the  sitter's  character,  and  brings  them  out.  But  now  and  then  you 
see  a  woman's  face  so  beautiful,  a  woman's  complexion  so  exquisite,  that  you 
feel,  as  Reynolds  felt  before  Michael  Angelo's  work,  that  to  catch  the  slight- 
est of  its  perfections  would  be  glory  and  distinction  enough  for  an  ambitious 
man.     As  for  the  old  masters  in  portraiture,  of  course  it  is  impossible  to  tell 


102  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

how  much  they  flattered  their  subjects.  Certainly,  they  sometimes  caricatured 
them.  We  are  sure  of  that.  As  a  general  rule,  a  portrait  should  please  and 
satisfy  the  persons  most  intimate  with  the  sitter.  A  bust  of  a  man  has  a 
death-like  look,  which,  when  he  is  dead,  his  family  do  not  like.  Sculpture 
cannot  be  as  real  as  painting.  The  weakness  of  a  portrait  consists  most  often 
in  the  absence  of  the  true  character  of  the  sitter ;  you  feel  the  absence,  you 
perceive  only  a  waxy  resemblance,  an  insipidity,  even  though  the  work  is 
beautifully  handled  and  nicely  drawn.  It  is  pretty,  but  not  truthful.  On 
the  other  hand,  a  person,  when  looking  at  a  portrait,  often  says,  '  I  am  sure  it 
is  a  good  likeness,'  although  he  has  never  seen  the  original.  He  feels  it  to  be 
such.  At  the  same  time,  however,  the  picture  may  have  character,  but  not 
the  character  of  the  sitter.  A  moral  design  in  a  work  of  art  is  a  very  proper 
one,  I  think — in  fact,  it  is  the  highest  of  all  designs  ;  but  it  may  be  reached 
by  a  process  little  suspected.  If  you  hold  that  the  artist's  object  is  simply  to 
present  truth  without  teaching,  you  cut  off  from  the  realm  of  art  some  of  the 
masterpieces  of  the  world.  Bunyan's  descriptions  are  certainly  pictures,  and 
their  sole  intention  was  moral.  The  same  is  true  of  what  Dante  wrote,  of 
what  Milton  wrote.  I  have  a  feeling  that  the  same  is  true  of  the  works  of 
Shakespeare.  He  didn't  bring  the  moral  intention  out  as  a  preacher  does,  but 
it  must  have  been  latent  in  his  mind.  The  story  of  '  Othello,'  for  example, 
must  have  been  intended  to  convey  a  lesson.  One  gets  very  much  disgusted, 
certainly,  by  pictures  designed  to  teach  a  moral  or  religious  truth,  but  feebly 
aud  poorly  painted.  Yet,  when  a  picture  is  a  work  of  art  in  every  other  re- 
spect, the  fact  that  it  conveys  and  impresses  a  moral  truth  does  not  make  it 
not  a  work  of  art.  Bryant's  poem  on  the  water-fowl  is  one  of  the  most  nearly 
perfect  pieces  of  artistic  composition  in  the  world,  yet  its  whole  idea  is  the 
truth  that  God  cares  for  a  solitary,  individual  life.  That  is  its  key,  and  that 
clinches  it.  As  for  many  modern  French  pictures  —  for  instance,  some  of 
those  in  the  Centennial  Exhibition  in  Philadelphia  —  they  were  evidently 
intended  to  pamper  the  tastes  of  lascivious  men.  I  felt  it.  Titian's  method 
was  absolutely  the  beau  ideal  —  fullness  of  reality  and  individuality,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  breadth  and  largeness  of  treatment.  Even  in  his  handling 
of  color  this  same  method  is  seen  —  certainly  very  nicely  discriminated  and 
emphasized  tints    appear  in   every  one  of  his  pictures.     Flesh  is  the  most 


STUDY     OF    THE     ROCKY     MOUNTAIN     ASPENS. 
From  a  Painting  by    Worthington    WHttredge. 


1>.  102. 


DANIEL    HUNTINGTON. 


103 


difficult  of  all  substances  to  represent  on  canvas.  Very  few  painters  have  ever 
reproduced  it.  As  a  painter  grows  older  lie  gets  to  think  so  much  of  i  be  im- 
portance of  pearliuess,  freshness,  and  delicacy  in  flesh,  that  he  is  apt  fco  lose 
richness,  force,  and  warmth.  He  becomes  satisfied  with  too  little  of  the  latter 
qualities.  No  matter  how  much  love  he  has  for  them,  he  feels  that,  without 
pearliness,  without  that  delicate  and  luminous  effect  of  lijdit  in  and  shining 
through  a  porcelain  vase,  the  picture  is  nothing.  Perhaps  the  film  of  the  eye 
in  old  age  makes  things  look  a  little  yellower  than  they  are.  At  any  rate, 
whatever  may  be  the  cause,  it  is  certain  that  pictures  by  older  painters  are 
very  often  deficient  in  yellows.  Reynolds's  later  portraits  have  this  defect ;  so 
have  Trumbull's.  But  Titian's  are  always  incomparable.  Nevertheless,  this 
pearliness  of  flesh  in  a  portrait  cannot  be  too  highly  valued.  It  must  be  pre- 
served, whatever  else  is  lost.  Here"  (pointing  to  an  unfinished  picture  of  a 
lady)  "is  a  sketch  of  a  portrait  after  only  one  or  two  sittings.  The  first  paint- 
ing of  the  face  is  a  pearly  gray,  with  merely  a  film  of  color — a  slight  approxi- 
mation to  flesh-color.  Gradually  I  shall  deej^en  it  till  I  get  the  tone  I  want ; 
and,  last  of  all,  I  shall  add  warmth  to  it — though,  perhaps,  even  after  I  have 
done  so,  it  will  be  too  cool.  So,  when  painting  the  black-velvet  robe  of  that 
other  figure  yonder,  I  began  with  a  tint  considerably  lighter  than  that  of 
black  velvet.  This  tint,  shining  through  the  one  next  laid  upon  it,  makes  the 
latter  luminous.  It  is  the  light  in-the-vase  effect  again.  Cold  colors  need 
something  to  give  them  warmth  and  tenderness.  For  example,  before  paint- 
ing the  green  drapery  of  that  picture,  I  rubbed  some  browns  on  the  canvas, 
and  then  used  a  purer  and  fresher  green,  to  which  the  browns,  by  breaking 
through  it,  give  a  sparkling  effect — an  effect  which  is  simply  the  result  of  an 
opposite  color  shining  through.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  you  remember,  found 
that  Titian's  process  was  sometimes  the  same  one  that  I  adopted  in  the  unfin- 
ished portrait  of  a  lady." 

Of  the  pictures  in  his  studio  and  the  other  rooms  of  his  house — the  num- 
ber of  these  treasures  is  many — Mr.  Huntington  values  most  a  small  Kensett 
called  "  In  the  Woods,"  and  representing  a  scene  above  the  Kauterskill  Falls 
in  the  Catskills.  It  reproduces  subtile  effects  of  atmosphere  and  color,  and  is 
also  exceedingly  bold  and  fresh.  The  grays  in  it  are  so  rich  !  Many  of  Mr. 
Kensett's  friends  will  remember  this  beautiful  example  ;  and  none  of  them 


104  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

will  be  inclined  to  question  Mr.  Huntington's  estimate  of  the  lamented  and 
beloved  artist,  whose  place  is  vacant  still.  In  speaking  of  one  of  Kensett's 
sea-scenes — the  one  entitled  "  Eagle  Rock,"  and  owned  by  the  artist  Hicks — 
Mr.  Huntington,  after  mentioning  its  extreme  brilliancy  of  color,  its  quiet,  dis- 
tant, sunlit  effects,  its  exquisite  wave-drawing,  its  truthfulness,  and  its  delight- 
ful feeling,  exclaimed,  "  I  don't  think  any  man  ever  did  those  things  as  well 
as  lie  !  "  Some  old  tapestry,  woven  with  the  story  of  poor  Dido ;  a  suit  of 
armor  ornamented  with  arabesque  forms  and  inlaid  with  gold  ;  easels  and 
easy-chairs ;  all  sorts  of  plaster-casts  of  human  bodies  and  parts  of  bodies ; 
two  copies  from  Titian;  one  from  Stuart's  "General  Gates;"  one  from  Couture; 
an  original  Stuart ;  Hoyt's  copy  of  the  head  of  Rembrandt  in  the  Uffizi  Gal- 
lery, with  its  noble  quality  and  texture,  and  its  "  rotten-ripe  "  look  ;  a  portrait 
of  l)r.  Guyot,  of  Princeton  College — that  scholarly  and  beloved  professor — 
are  also  in  the  studio,  which  is  a  delightfully  confused  and  comfortable  place, 
open  wide  to  a  fine  north  light. 

His  reminiscences  of  early  friends  were  interesting.  Washington  Allston 
he  did  not  know  very  well,  having  passed  only  a  part  of  one  evening  with 
him  in  Boston.  Mr.  Huntington  went  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  in  company 
with  a  lady  friend,  who  thought  even  that  hour  of  the  night  was  a  little  early 
for  making  a  call  upon  Allston.  Mr.  Huntington  remembered  that  the  artist, 
who  was  bright  and  full  of  spirit,  got  out  a  little  saucer  of  cigars,  and  some 
apples  ;  and  that  he  took  the  trouble  to  go  down-stairs  and  draw  some  cider 
for  his  guests.  Allston's  conversation  was  full  of  anecdotes  of  himself,  of  the 
painter  Leslie,  of  old  times  in  England,  and  of  Coleridge,  whom  he  greatly 
admired  and  loved.  At  half-past  twelve  o'clock  in  the  morning  his  visitors 
arose  to  depart.  "  I  thought,"  said  Mr.  Huntington,  "  that  I  had  staid  long 
enough.  But  Allston  insisted  that  it  was  early  yet — only  the  edge  of  the 
evening ;  and,  going  up  to  the  lady,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm  and  with 
great  earnestness  besought  her  not  to  go.  Half  an  hour  later,  when  we  re- 
newed our  attempt  to  get  away,  he  remarked  that  it  was  a  pity  we  had  to 
leave  so  soon.  He  never  went  to  bed  himself  before  two  o'clock  in  the 
i  iiorniug." 

The  painter  Cole,  whom  Mr.  Huntington  knew  well,  was  "  a  sensitive,  deli- 
cately-constituted man,  gentle,  affectionate,  and  cheerful,  and  funny  and  frolic- 


a 
K 
0 


0       & 


0      "" 

W         B 


DANIEL    HUNTINGTON. 


105 


some  as  a  child.  He  caught  the  spirit  of  our  wild  American  landscape  with 
wonderful  power,  especially  in  the  smaller  pictures  painted  in  his  middle 
period.  Later  in  life,  having  become  morbidly  excited  by  the  moral  ideas 
which  he  attempted  to  depict  upon  his  canvas,  he  produced  so  rapidly  and 
with  such  fire  that  much  of  the  artistic  excellence  of  his  earlier  and  smaller 
works  was  lost.  His  best  works  are  in  the  rooms  of  the  New  York  Historical 
Society — small  reproductions  of  autumn  American  scenery,  brilliant  still,  and 
full  of  ti-uth  and  spirit.  His  finest  works  will  live — there  is  no  doubt  about 
it ;  he  fills  a  niche  no  one  else  ever  did  fill,  or  ever  can,  for  the  time  has  gone 
by."  His  "  Storm  in  a  Forest,"  in  Mr.  R.  M.  Olyphant's  late  collection,  is 
"  full  of  blow  and  fury,  and  is  very  characteristic."  The  last  of  the  series  in 
the  Historical  Society's  rooms — a  scene  of  utter  desolation,  crumbling  ruins 
covered  with  ivy  in  the  foreground,  a  stork's  nest,  and  a  full  moon — is,  in  Mr. 
Huntington's  opinion,  the  most  nearly  perfect  of  his  paintings :  "  In  texture 
and  color  it  is  absolutely  perfect,  as  perfect  as  anything  I  know  of.  It  is  a 
great  picture  in  every  respect.  Samuel  F.  B.  Morse  was  a  great  deal  more  of 
an  artist  than  he  was  generally  esteemed  to  be.  When  he  was  painting,  a 
certain  flashy  style  was  fashionable — a  style  which  delighted  chiefly  in  deli- 
cate finish  and  elaboration,  but  forgot  the  existence  of  such  a  substance  as  a 
soul.  Professor  Morse  despised  this  style ;  and  the  best  of  his  portraits  are 
painted  in  a  good,  solid,  Venetian  way,  without  thinness,  smoothness,  or  slip- 
periness.  He  had  studied  hard  under  Allston  and  West,  and  was  an  accom- 
plished composer ;  but  his  fondness  for  experiment  in  natural  philosophy  man- 
ifested itself  also  in  the  domain  of  art.  He  was  always  trying  different  text- 
ures, vehicles,  and  methods ;  he  was  always  framing  theories — equalities  val- 
uable in  a  professor,  but  interfering  with  simplicity  of  artistic  pursuit.  When 
I  knew  him  he  had  his  wires  strung  around  his  studio,  and  his  chemical 
apparatus  side  by  side  with  his  easel.  His  portrait  of  an  old  lady,  in  Mr.  R. 
M.  Olyphant's  collection,  is  like  a  Rembrandt ;  and  his  '  Mayor  Paulding,'  in 
the  City  Hall,  is  exceedingly  broad,  vigorous,  and  manly." 

"  The  '  Slave-Ship,' "  said  Mr.  Huntington,  "  cannot  be  understood  except 
by  a  person  who  has  seen  Turners  earlier  and  later  pictures.  It  comes  be- 
tween them.  He  was  a  little  crazy  in  his  eye  when  he  painted  it,  and  it 
somewhat  resembles  the  mutteriugs  or  ravings  of  an  insane  genius  of  the  high- 


106  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

est  rank.  Full  of  the  most  wonderful  execution,  and  the  most  wonderful 
knowledge  of  material  and  of  Nature,  it  is  at  the  same  time  disjointed  and 
inconsistent.  Its  faults  are  those  of  a  great  mind  going  to  chaos.  Rich  in 
atmosphere,  in  the  flicker  of  light,  and  (throughout  the  lower  part)  of  trans- 
lucency ;  the  water  flowing,  liquid,  and  yet  solid  ;  the  representation  of  text- 
ure and  of  substances  perfect — it  is,  nevertheless,  neither  truthful  nor  natural. 
The  upper  part,  with  its  whites  running  into  intense  yellows,  oranges,  and 
reds,  is  overdone ;  the  lower  part  is  exquisite  in  refinement  and  delicacy.  The 
clearness,  movement,  swash,  and  solidity  of  the  waves  are  extraordinary. 
Could  we  but  place  'The  Slave-Ship'  between  one  of  his  earlier  and  one  of  his 
later  works,  it  would  become  very  interesting ;  but  by  itself  it  gives  a  false 
idea  of  his  capacity  and  taste  as  an  artist.  It  would  be  mere  affectation  for 
any  one  to  pretend  to  like  it  who  had  seen  no  other  works  of  Turner's.  I 
hear  connoisseurs  and  painters  exclaiming  that  they  can't  see  anything  in  it ; 
that  it  is  perfect  folly ;  that  it  is  humbug,  and  so  on  ;  and  I  confess  that  the 
first  sight  of  the  work  a  little  astonished  me.  To  call  it  a  miracle  of  art  is  to 
go  to  the  other  extreme.  It  is  a  product  of  wonderful  power  a  little  disor- 
ganized.    It  is  just  that,  and  only  that,  and  all  that." 

Inman  was  a  charming  fellow — a  wag,  immensely  humorous  and  droll. 
His  studio  and  Mr.  Huntington's  were  in  the  same  building.  He  painted 
with  great  rapidity  and  facility.  It  was  generally  thought  that  he  painted 
ladies  best.  He  was  constantly  cracking  jokes  and  saying  witticisms  which 
made  them  laugh ;  and,  consequently,  you  will  rarely  see  a  serious  portrait 
of  a  lady  by  Inman.  His  portraits  of  old  men,  determined,  solemn  old  men, 
who  could  not  be  moved  by  his  drollery,  were  really  his  best — e.  g.,  the 
"  Bishop  Moore,"  of  Virginia,  in  full  Episcopal  robes,  expresses  the  dignity  and 
grace  of  an  old  gentleman,  and  is  replete  with  spirit  and  power.  It  now 
hangs  in  the  vestry-room  of  Trinity  Chapel,  in  Twenty-sixth  Street,  New 
York.  Bishop  White's  venerable  head  is  well  worth  looking  at.  Inman 
made  several  copies  of  this  picture,  and  one  of  the  best  of  them  is  owned  by 
Mrs.  Rogers,  of  Twentieth  Street,  a  sister  of  Dr.  Muhlenberg.  The  portrait 
of  Mr.  Rawle,  of  Philadelphia,  is  a  masterpiece :  the  pallid  warmth  and  trans- 
lucency  of  a  studious  old  man's  face  are  admirably  rendered.  A  head  of  Chal- 
mers in  the  Lenox  Library — Mr.  Lenox  is  an  admirer  of  Dr.  Chalmers — is 


1CHABOD   CRANE   AND   KATR1NA. 


From  a  Painting  by  Daniel  Huntington. 


p.  107. 


DANIEL    IIUNTINQTON.  107 

also  an  important  work.  It  was  painted  when  Inman  was  in  Great  Britain. 
Macaulay,  Wordsworth,  and  other  celebrities,  sat  for  him  at  about  the  same 
time.  His  self-confidence  and  "  push  "  were  largely  developed,  and  in  him 
were  very  pleasant.  Before  going  to  England  he  tried  to  get  orders  for  por- 
traits of  distinguished  men  in  that  country.  A  good  story  is  told  in  this  con- 
nection. A  New-Yorker,  to  whom  Inman  had  applied  for  an  order,  at  length 
gave  him  one  for  a  portrait  of  a  certain  nobleman,  Lord  Codrington  by  name. 
Inman  received  the  commission  gladly,  but,  of  course,  made  no  memorandum 
of  the  name.  The  Lord-Chancellor  of  England  at  that  time  was  named  Cod- 
dington  (or  something  else  very  much  like  Codrington),  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  lord -chancellor  appeared  Inman,  with  a  request  to  be  allowed  to  paint 

a  portrait  of  him  for  his  friend,  Mr. ,  in  America.     "  But,"  remonstrated 

the  lord-chancellor,  with  an  oath,  "  I  don't  know  any  such  gentleman  ;  I 
haven't  a  single  acquaintance  in  America !  "  "  Well,"  replied  Inman,  not  in 
the  least  daunted,  "  he  knows  you  ;  he's  a  leading  man  in  our  country — plenty 
of  money,  influential,  prominent — and  he  very  much  wants  your  portrait.  He 
especially  commissioned  me  to  paint  one  before  I  left  New  York."  It  will 
hardly  be  believed  that  the  artist  actually  persuaded  the  lord-chancellor  to 
give  him  a  series  of  sittings  ;  but  such  is  the  fact.  Inman  came  home  with  a 
vigorous  and  flashy  portrait  of  him  in  official  robes.  But  all  the  artist's  auda- 
city was  useless  on  his  arrival  here.  The  gentleman  who  had  ordered  a  Cod- 
rington would  not  take  a  Coddington.  The  picture  is  now  in  the  possession 
of  Mr.  George  Buckam,  Inman's  executor.  It  is  a  strong  and  characteristic 
specimen,  and  deserves  a  place  in  a  public  gallery. 

"  Is  there  an  American  school  of  painting  \  "  I  asked. 

"  Undoubtedly,  there  once  was  an  American  school  of  painting,"  he  replied. 
"  Such  works  as  Cole's  wild,  sequestered  mountain-landscapes,  and  Mount's 
genre  representations,  are  distinctively  American.  '  The  Power  of  Music,' 
'  Raffling  for  a  Goose,'  '  Bargaining  for  a  Horse,'  and  other  of  Mount's  pictures, 
could  never  have  been  painted  in  Europe.  At  the  same  time,  they  lack  the 
harmony,  richness,  artistic  strength,  that  would  have  come  from  foreign  study. 
But  art  is  universal,  and  the  distinction  of  national  schools  will  be  done  away 
with — originality  being  confined  for  the  most  part  to  the  individual  artist, 
rather  than  to  any  class  of  artists  in  a  particular  country.     To-day,  however, 

26 


108  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

there  is  certainly  a  marked  difference  in  the  styles  even  of  Boston  and  New 
York  artists.  William  M.  Hunt  and  his  pupils  display  a  simplicity  and 
breadth,  a  large  and  rather  blocky  way  of  laying  things  out,  a  neglect  instead 
of  a  subordination  of  details,  which  they  learned  from  Millet,  but  which, 
though  found  in  Boston,  can  scarcely  be  called  an  outgrowth  of  Boston.  This 
method  of  painting  is  broad  and  vigorous  ;  it  gives  only  the  largest  and  most 
important  features  of  a  scene ;  it  produces  fine  results.  But  it  is  a  dangerous 
method,  for  young  men  especially,  and  its  results  are  certainly  not  perfection. 
American  art  lacks  thorough  training  and  drilling  in  schools ;  and  whatever 
means  may  be  devised  to  insure  a  thorough  art-education,  students  should 
receive  the  best  instruction  in  drawing,  painting,  and  modeling,  and  should 
listen  to  practical  lectures  on  anatomy  and  perspective  especially.  They 
should  be  required  at  regular  intervals  to  pass  examinations,  should  be  ad- 
vanced by  slow  and  sure  stages,  and  should  be  graduated  with  diplomas  of 
merit.  Such  a  system,  thoroughly  carried  out,  would  insure  a  training  appli- 
cable to  every  department  of  art,  without  loss  of  originality  or  individuality. 
Our  independent  'Young  America'  is  not  in  danger  of  following  slavishly  in 
the  track  of  any  master.  The  late  John  Beaufain  Irving  was  one  of  those 
who  did  not  hesitate  to  enter  the  lists  for  a  contest  with  foreign  art,  selecting 
his  subjects  in  fields  where  the  most  eminent  European  artists  had  won  their 
laurels.  His  courage  in  doing  so  was  admirable,  and  the  fate  cannot  but  be 
deplored  which  cut  him  off  in  the  heat  of  the  fight,  while  the  shouts  of  his 
adherents  were  ringing  in  his  ears.  Nevertheless,  the  fight  will  be  main- 
tained. There  will  be  no  truce.  Foreign  art  will  continue  to  pour  in  its 
forces,  and  American  art  must  triumph,  not  by  imitating  or  decrying  it,  but 
by  surpassing  it." 

Mr.  Huntington  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  on  the  14th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1816.  He  was  a  student  in  Hamilton  College,  where  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  late  Mr.  Charles  L.  Elliott,  the  portrait-painter.  In  1835 
he  was  a  pupil  in  the  studio  of  the  late  Professor  S.  F.  B.  Morse.  In  1839 
he  visited  Europe,  and  staid  two  year3  in  Rome.  Again,  in  1844,  he  spent 
two  years  in  the  capital  of  Italy.  For  seven  years,  from  1862  to  1869,  he  was 
President  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design,  a  position  which  he  now  holds. 
He  has  probably  painted  more  portraits  of  distinguished  Americans  than  any 


u 

0 

E 
u. 
0 

( 

h 
tfl 
O 

P. 

a 
o 
< 
j 
j 


s 


«? 


THOMAS     WATERMAN     WOOD.  109 

other  painter,  living  or  dead.  His  historical  and  ideal  subjects  are  very  many. 
Principal  among  them  are  "  Sowing  the  Word,"  "  Henry  VIII.  and  Queen 
Catharine  Parr,"  "  Lady  Jane  Grey  and  Feckenham  in  the  Tower,"  "  Mercy's 
Dream,"  and  "Ichabod  Crane  and  Katrina,"  the  last  mentioned  being  in  the 
gallery  of  Mr.  William  H.  Osborn,  of  Park  Avenue,  New  York. 


The  present  President  of  the  American  Water-Color  Society,  Mr.  Thomas 
Waterman  Wood,  a  genre  and  figure  painter,  was  born  in  Montpelier,  Ver- 
mont. In  1857  he  studied  art  in  the  studio  of  Mr.  Chester  Harding,  of 
Boston,  and  in  1858  went  to  Paris.  Two  years  afterward  he  returned 
to  Montpelier.  In  a  few  weeks  he  went  to  Louisville,  Kentucky,  and 
painted  portraits  in  that  city  and  in  Nashville,  Tennessee,  until  1807,  when 
he  came  to  New  York  City,  bringing  with  him  many  sketches  of  negro 
and  soldier  life,  which  he  has  since  transferred  to  canvas.  To  the  exhibition 
that  year  in  the  National  Academy  of  Design  he  contributed  a  group  of  works 
entitled  "  The  Blind  Fiddler,"  "  The  Sharp-shooter,"  "  The  Contraband,"  "  The 
Recruit,"  and  "  The  Veteran,"  all  of  them  relating  to  the  war  of  the  rebel- 
lion. The  last  three  are  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  Charles  S.  Smith,  of  New 
York  City,  and  were  intended  to  go  together  and  to  constitute  a  chapter  in 
the  life  of  a  negro  soldier.  "  In  the  first,"  says  a  writer  who  saw  them,  "  the 
newly-emancipated  slave  approaches  a  provost-marshal's  office  with  timid  step, 
seeking  to  be  enrolled  among  the  defenders  of  his  country.  This  is  the  gen- 
uine '  Contraband.'  He  has  evidently  come  a  long  journey  on  foot.  His  only 
baggage  is  contained  in  an  old  silk  pocket-handkerchief.  He  is  not  past  mid- 
dle age,  yet  privation  and  suffering  have  made  him  look  prematurely  old.  In 
the  next  we  see  him  accepted,  accoutred,  uniformed,  and  drilled,  standing  on 
guard  at  the  very  door  where  he  entered  to  enlist.  This  is  '  The  Volunteer.' 
His  cares  have  now  vanished,  and  he  looks  younger,  and,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
happy  and  proud.  In  the  third  picture  he  is  the  one-legged  veteran,  though 
two  years  since  we  first  saw  him  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  passed.  He 
approaches  the  same  office  to  draw  his  '  additional  bounty '  and  pension,  or 
j^erhaps  his  '  back  pay.'  " 

These  pictures  were  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Wood's  being  elected  an  Associate 


HO  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

of  the  Academy.  In  1871  he  became  an  Academician.  Mr.  Thomas  Schultz, 
of  Astoria,  owns  his  "  Politics  in  the  Workshop  ;  "  Mr.  James  K.  Osgood,  of 
Boston,  his  "  Country  Doctor;"  "Mr.  Fletcher  Harper,  Jr.,  of  New  York  City, 
his  "  Cogitation,"  a  character-study ;  and  Mr.  Thau,  of  Pittsburg,  Pennsyl- 
vania, his  "  Return  of  the  Flag."  Mr.  Wood's  first  contribution  to  the  Amer- 
ican Water-Color  Society's  exhibitions  was  the  "  American  Citizens,"  which 
contained  representations  of  the  negro,  the  Dutchman,  the  Irishman,  and  the 
Yankee.  His  "  Village  Post-Office,"  which  we  have  engraved,  is  owned  by 
Mr.  Charles  S.  Smith. 


Mr.  Lemuel  E.  Wilmaeth,  a  native  of  Attleborough,  Massachusetts,  was 
in  early  manhood  a  watch-maker  in  Philadelphia.  He  entered  the  night- 
classes  of  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  in  1857,  and  went  to 
Europe  two  years  later.  For  three  years  and  a  half  he  studied  art  in  Munich. 
The  painter  Wilhelm  von  Kaulbach  befriended  him,  and  introduced  him  into 
some  families  of  that  city  as  a  drawing-teacher.  One  of  his  first  important 
works  was  a  cartoon  representing  Mutius  Scsevola  burning  his  right  hand  in 
the  presence  of  the  King  of  the  Etruscans,  which  is  said  to  have  received 
warm  praise  from  Kaulbach.  In  the  autumn  of  1862  Mr.  Wilmarth  returned 
to  America.  Two  years  afterward  he  became  a  student  in  the  Ecole  des 
Beaux-Arts  in  Paris,  iu  the  atelier  of  Gerome,  whence  he  sent  to  the  Acade- 
my exhibitions  in  New  York  his  "  Sparking  in  the  Olden  Time,"  his  "  Playing 
Two  Games  at  One  Time,"  his  "  Little  Pitchers  have  Big  Ears,"  his  "  Last 
Hours  of  Captain  Nathan  Hale,"  and  other  works.  He  opened  a  studio  in 
New  York  in  1867.  The  next  year  he  assumed  the  charge  of  the  schools 
of  the  Brooklyn  Art  Association,  and  in  1870  became  professor  in  the 
schools  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design.  His  portrait-group,  enti- 
tled "  An  Afternoon  at  Home,"  was  in  the  Academy  Exhibition  of  1871  ; 
and  his  genre  picture,  "  Guess  what  I've  brought  You  ? " — a  boy  stand- 
ing before  a  lady  and  little  girl,  and  holding  behind  him  a  squirrel  in 
a  cage — in  the  Exhibition  of  1873.  Not  long  ago,  in  the  same  place,  was 
hung  the  work  which  we  have  engraved.  It  is  called  "Ingratitude,"  and 
the   ingratitude    is    that  of  the    mother  of  a  litter  of  pups,  who  steals   the 


Q  "« 

D  5 

H  g 

h  ^ 

<  =s 

«  t 

0  &! 

I 


OEOIi  6  E    I.  o  R  I N  6     />'  ffi  0  WN.  m 

dinner  of  a    laborer    while  the    latter    is  in    the    act    of  making   a    bed   for 
her  young  offspring. 


Mr.  George  Loring  Brown  was  born  in  Boston  in  1814.  When  twelve 
years  old  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  wood-engraver.  He  took  his  first  lessons  in 
painting  from  Washington  Allston.  After  Mr.  Isaac  P.  Davis,  a  connoisseur 
of  that  city,  had  given  him  fifty  dollars  for  a  copy  of  a  landscape,  he  resolved 
to  go  to  Italy.  A  Boston  merchant  having  presented  him  with  one  hundred 
dollars,  he  put  his  resolution  into  execution,  and,  in  his  nineteenth  year, 
landed  at  Antwerp  with  an  empty  wallet.  The  captain  of  the  ship  that  had 
taken  him  over  lent  him  some  money  ;  and  with  a  stout  heart  he  proceeded  to 
make  sketches  of  the  Antwerp  Cathedral,  and  studies  of  the  paintings  of 
Buysdael.  Soon  he  found  himself  in  London,  where  another  friend  assist ed 
him  financially,  and  enabled  him  to  buy  a  ticket  for  Paris.  In  the  French 
capital  he  became  a  pupil  of  Eugene  Isabey.  Money  once  more  becoming 
scarce,  he  availed  himself  of  an  invitation  from  his  friend,  the  Boston  mer- 
chant, to  send  his  first  European  pictures  to  him ;  but,  as  in  those  days  the 
Atlantic  was  not  a  scene  of  rapid  transit,  he  was  obliged  to  wait  the  con- 
venience of  contrary  winds  and  tides.  When  at  length  an  answer  came,  it  was 
in  the  highest  degree  satisfactory.  "  The  remittances,"  says  a  biographer, 
"  were  adequate  to  place  him  beyond  immediate  want."  One  day,  in  the 
studio  of  Isabey,  after  spending  several  months  in  copying  Claude's  "  Meeting 
of  Mark  Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  he  became  disgusted  with  the  result  of  his 
endeavor,  and,  in  a  moment  of  rage,  attacked  his  canvas  with  a  knife.  "  He 
saved  the  pieces,  however,"  continues  the  biographer ;  "  thinking,  probably, 
that  they  might  be  useful  for  the  production  of  new  pictures."  He  returned 
to  Boston,  and  found,  with  Edmund  Burke,  that  difficulty  had  been  his  helper. 
His  pictures  sold  Avell,  and  he  bethought  himself  of  his  recent  copy  of  Claude, 
Gathering  together  the  fragments  and  placing  them  in  a  pretty  frame,  he  had 
the  pleasure  of  hearing  Washington  Allston  say  that  the  patched  production 
was  "  the  best  copy  of  Claude  he  had  ever  seen."  The  testimony  of  Allston 
was  of  value  to  the  young  artist.  It  brought  him  many  orders  for  copies  of 
Claude,  and,  with  them,  the  means  of  making  a  second  trip  to  Europe.     This 


112  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

was  in  1840,  when  Brown  was  twenty-six  years  old.  No  more  struggles 
against  poverty.  A  Baltimore  gentleman  met  him  in  Rome,  and  bought  a 
picture  of  him  for  oue  thousand  dollars.  Other  purchases  followed,  and 
Mr.  Brown  staid  twenty  years  in  Italy.  He  painted  original  landscapes,  and 
copied  Claude. 

A  moonlight-scene  in  Venice,  by  Mr.  Brown,  says  a  writer  in  Appletons' 
Art  Journal  for  December,  1877,  "  is  poetic  in  conception,  and  rises  to  the 
dignity  of  a  masterpiece.  A  distinguished  critic  asserts  that  it  gives  with 
admirable  truth  that  peculiar  density  of  the  sky,  so  remarkable  in  Italy  on  a 
summer  night  after  a  storm,  when  the  moon  appears  to  sail  far  out  from  the 
infinite  depths  of  the  blue  concave,  and  silver  the  edges  of  massive  clouds 
below.  She  illumines  the  Piazzetta  di  San  Marco  and  the  famous  Lion  of  St. 
Mark  ;  the  Ducal  Palace  on  the  right,  the  lagoons  and  San  Giorgio  on  the 
left.  In  the  opening  on  the  right,  between  the  Ducal  Palace  and  the  edifice,  is 
seen  the  '  Bridge  of  Sighs.'  At  a  proper  distance  the  illusion  of  this  view  is 
absolutely  startling,  and  one  who  can  recognize  its  local  fidelity  feels  a  thrill 
of  solemn  delight,  such  as  once  transported  him  when  gazing  from  the  Piazza 
San  Marco  upon  the  heavens  thus  illumined.  Critics  objected  that  the  pig- 
ments were  laid  on  too  heavily,  but  none  looked  upon  the  picture  unmoved, 
and  not  a  few  acknowledged  that  it  was  the  best  southern  moonlight  that 
they  had  ever  seen  upon  canvas.  This  picture  was  the  result  of  Mr.  Brown's 
early  study ;  it  represented  earnest  work  and  high-toned  sentiment ;  but  he 
did  not  pause  in  his  pursuit  of  artistic  knowledge  on  the  achievement  of  one 
triumph,  for  his  ambition  admitted  of  no  middle  ground:  his  aim  was  the 
highest.  In  1858  he  received  the  grand  prize  of  the  Art  Union  of  Rome,  and 
in  1860,  returning  to  the  United  States,  settled  for  a  time  in  New  York,  hav- 
ing brought  with  him  a  large  number  of  drawings  and  studies,  besides  several 
finished  pictures,  all  of  which  were  warmly  praised  by  both  artists  and  critics. 
The  cpiestion  is  often  asked  how  Mr.  Brown  produces  the  excpiisite  atmos- 
pheric effects  for  which  his  canvases  are  so  famous;  but  it  is  a  secret  that 
belongs  to  the  artist,  and  one  which  he  cannot  himself  solve.  We  often  hear 
of  the  method  of  this  or  that  artist — how  this  one  glazes  and  that  one  scum- 
bles ;  but  it  does  not  reveal  the  secret  of  the  cunning  touch,  nor  of  the  senti- 
ment which   inspires  each  stroke  of  the  brush.     Hawthorne,  in   his  'Marble 


«Q 


o     I 


w    -s 


■TAMES    IT.     BEARD.  1]3 

Faun,'  says  that  Mr.  Brown  is  'an  artist  who  has  studied  Nature  with  such 
tender  love  that  she  takes  him  to  her  intimacy,  enabling  him  t<>  reproduce  her 
in  landscapes  that  seem  the  reality  of  a  better  earth,  and  yet  are  but  the  truth 
of  the  very  scenes  around  us,  observed  by  the  painter's  insight,  and  inter- 
preted for  us  by  his  skill.  By  his  magic  the  moon  throws  her  light  far  out 
of  the  picture,  and  the  crimson  of  the  summer  night  absolutely  glimmers  on 
the  beholder's  face.' " 

Among  Mr.  Brown's  patrons  are  the  Prince  of  Wales;  the  Prince  Borghese, 
of  Rome ;  Lady  Cremorne,  of  London  ;  ex-Governors  John  A.  Dix,  Rodman, 
and  Fairbanks;  the  late  A.  T.  Stewart,  of  New  York,  and  Alvin  Adams,  of 
Boston ;  and  Samuel  C.  Hooper  and  T.  G.  Appleton,  of  the  latter  city.  Mr. 
George  L.  Clough,  of  Boston,  owns  his  "Lake  of  Nemi."  This  work,  and 
"  The  Temple  of  Peace,"  are  beautiful  and  representative. 


The  well-known  painter  of  domestic  animals,  Mr.  James  H.  Beard,  was 
born  in  Buffalo,  New  York,  in  1814.  His  father  became  a  farmer  in  Paines- 
ville,  Ohio,  and  died  when  James  was  eleven  years  old.  A  traveling  portrait- 
painter  arrived  in  that  village,  and  inspired  the  boy  with  visions  of  being  an 
artist.  When  the  traveler,  who  had  chaiged  the  inhabitants  from  ten  to  fif- 
teen dollars  apiece  for  pictures  of  themselves,  took  his  departure,  the  aspir- 
ant whom  he  left  behind  him  entered  the  same  profession,  and  gained  a 
greater  success,  because  his  price  for  a  portrait  was  not  more  than  five  dollars, 
and  in  many  cases  only  three.  Concerning  these  early  productions,  Mr.  Beard 
says,  "  They  were  strong  likenesses,  but  not  particularly  flattering."  As 
orders  increased,  the  charges  also  became  larger :  for  a  portrait  with  a  hand 
in  it — the  hand  usually  resting  quietly  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  holding  a 
book,  inscribed  in  yellow  letters  on  the  back,  "  Watts's  Hymns  " — he  asked 
fifteen  dollars,  the  highest  known  price  in  that  region  for  such  works. 

The  horizon  of  Painesville  in  the  backwoods  was  really  as  wide  as  that  of 
Pittsburg,  Pennsylvania,  whither,  in  his  seventeenth  year,  Mr.  Beard  went  in 
search  of  customers,  but  its  area  was  less  promising.  Pittsburg,  however, 
did  not  meet  the  expectations  of  the  young  artist.  Its  people,  it  seemed  to 
him,  did  not  care  for  art.     Like  Theodore  Thomas,  he  journeyed  to  Cincinnati, 


|14  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

with  this  difference — the  musician  had  money  enough  to  pay  for  transporta- 
tion, the  painter  was  compelled  to  work  his  passage.     The  Cincinnati  Com- 
mercial recently  proposed  to  take  the  New  York  Philharmonic  Society,  as 
well  as  the  conductor  of  that  organization.     "  We  have  plenty  of  room  in  the 
settin'  sun,''  it  said ;  "the  society  can  grow  up  with  the  country.     Send  it  on." 
Xo  such  enthusiasm  greeted  the  Ohioati  on  his  return  to  the  State  where  his 
boyhood  had  been  spent.     The  country  had  not  yet  grown  up  to  him.     He 
traveled  from  place  to  place  on  the  Ohio  River ;  but  finally,  about  the  year 
1835,  retraced  his  steps  to  Cincinnati,  "  desperate,"  he  says,  "  and  determined 
to  find  work  of  some  sort."     In  one  of  his  rambles  (narrates  a  biographer  in 
Appletons'  Art  Journal)  "he  passed  a  chair-maker's  shop,  and,  going  back, 
asked  for  a  job  of  chair-painting.     He  asked  for  that  kind  of  work,  as  he  con- 
sidered it  in  his  line.     He  felt  that,  although  he  was  a  poor  portrait-painter, 
he  might  make  a  fair  chair-painter.     On  asking  for  work,  the  '  boss '  said  he 
wanted  '  a  grounder,'  and  questioned  young  Beard  in  regard  to  his  experience. 
He  answered,  although  'a  grounder'  was  Greek  to  him,  that  he  was  fully 
competent,  and  was  engaged  on  trial,  to  begin  as  l  a  grounder '  the  next  morn- 
ing.    His  first  business  now  was  to  find  out  the  rudiments  of  his  new  profes- 
sion by  actual  observation.     To  do  this,  he  at  once  took  a  seat  in  the  shop, 
and  closely  watched  the  '  grounder '  as  he  worked,  and  by  night  had  mastered 
the  theory  of  the  work.     When  he  went  to  his  boarding-house,  however,  he 
says,  to  perfect  himself  in  the  practice  of  swinging  the  brush,  he  secured  an 
old  duster,  and  went  to  work  at  a  chair.      His  room-mate  thought  he  was 
crazy,  but  he  persevered,  and  in  a  few  hours  made  up  his  mind  that  he  had 
at  least  learned  the  rudiments  of  the  trade.     The  next  morning  he  went  to 
the  shop,  and  astonished  his  boss  by  the  speed  with  which  he  worked.     He 
remained  in  this  shop  several  months,  and  earned  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day, 
which  was  good  pay  at  that  time.     He  was  very  economical,  and  with  his  sav- 
ings bought  a  new  set  of  artist's  materials,  new  clothing,  and,  what  was  his 
chief  pride  at  the  time,  a  new  cloth  cloak  with  a  velvet  collar." 

Throwing  over  his  shoulders  the  new  cloth  coat  with  a  velvet  collar,  he  set 
out  a  second  time  for  Pittsburg.  Why  should  not  Pittsburg  serve  him  as 
well,  at  least,  as  Cincinnati  had  done?  On  his  first  visit  to  each  city  the 
reception  had  been  alike  unpropitious.     For  some  reason,  however,  Pittsburg 


OS 


JAMES    IT.     BEARD.  115 

again  refused  to  respond.  He  left  it  for  Louisville,  Kentucky  ;  lie  left  Louis- 
ville for  New  Orleans  ;  lie  left  New  Orleans  for  his  old  home  in  Cincinnati ; 
and,  after  spending  several  years,  and  painting  the  portraits  of  General  Har- 
rison, President  Taylor,  Henry  Clay,  and  other  notable  citizens,  he  left  Cincin- 
nati in  1846  for  New  York.  He  became  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Century 
Club,  and  received  from  Mr.  George  W.  Austin  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars for  his  picture,  "The  North  Carolina  Emigrants" — at  that  time  the  largest 
sum  of  money  ever  paid  for  an  American  painting.  There  was  something  in 
Cincinnati  that  secured  his  allegiance  to  that  city.  He  returned  there  in  a 
few  years,  bringing  with  him  an  honorary  degree  from  the  National  Academy 
of  Design.  "The  Alexander  Stock-Farm"  was  painted  in  1867;  and  Mr. 
Beard's  first  dog-picture — he  has  since  produced  many  such  pictures — soon 
afterward.  It  is  entitled  "  The  Poor  Relations."  In  1870  Mr.  Beard  changed 
his  residence  to  New  York  City,  and  began  to  paint  the  series  of  representa- 
tions of  dogs  and  cats  which  have  made  his  name  known  in  almost  every  city 
in  the  Union. 

With  some  persons  the  interest  of  dogs  and  cats  depends  upon  the  sup- 
posed resemblance  between  the  moral  qualities  of  these  creatures  and  of 
human  beings  ;  and  the  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood,  whose  book,  entitled  "  Man  and 
Animals,  here  and  hereafter,"  is  an  elaborate  and  curious  attempt  to  prove 
that  animals  have  souls,  may  be  considered  as  their  representative.  These 
persons  see  in  their  favorite  beasts  the  reflex  of  themselves ;  and  the  most 
of  them  like  dogs  better  than  cats  because  they  regard  the  latter  to  be  less 
human  than  the  former.  Even  in  the  domain  of  art-criticism  this  dogma  has 
exerted  an  influence  ;  Mr.  Bellars,  for  example,  in  his  recent  pleasant  if  not 
very  thorough  disquisition  on  "  The  Fine  Arts  and  their  Uses,"  gravely  asserts 
that  "  animals  may  stir  our  feelings,  not  by  physical  pei'fections  only,  but  also 
by  moral  qualities,  which,  in  a  higher  development,  lie  at  the  root  of  our  own 
essential  being."  That  is  to  say,  we  sympathize  with  these  creatures  partly 
because  they  are  made  in  our  own  moral  image.  It  is  natural  to  suppose  that 
an  animal-painter,  who  held  such  views,  would  be  tempted  to  magnify  the 
resemblances  which  he  believed  to  exist,  and  to  give  us,  in  his  delineations 
of  dogs  and  cats,  horses,  and  wild  beasts,  imperfect  reproductions  of  hu- 
man   expressions    and    attitudes.      In   the  Academy  Exhibition  of   1878   in 


28 


1 1 Q  A  U  ER1  C  A  A      PAINTERS. 

New  York,  Mr.  Beard  was  represented  by  a  picture  of  two  dogs,  which 
he  called  "  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho  Panza,"  and  into  the  faces  of  which  he 
had  endeavored  to  convey  some  of  the  more  striking  intellectual  and  moral 
traits  of  those  Spanish  heroes.  The  name  that  he  applied  to  this  canvas  prob- 
ably emphasizes  his  views  on  the  subject ;  but  his  previous  works  were  suffi- 
cient to  show  what  those  views  are.  In  Mr.  Beard's  eyes  the  true  value  of 
dogs  and  cats  to  an  artist  is  their  human  possibilities.  He  likes  to  paint  these 
potentialities.  He  looks  upon  animals,  doubtless,  with  a  reverential  affection 
akin  to  that  of  the  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood,  and  he  deals  with  them  with  as  lively 
and  absorbing  an  interest  as  does  Mr.  J.  G.  Brown  with  his  groups  of  boot- 
blacks and  other  street  Arabs.  He  discerns  in  them  the  moral  qualities 
"which  lie  at  the  root  of  our  own  essential  being;"  and,  so  far  as  cats 
and  dogs  are  concerned,  his  opinions  and  experiences  can  perhaps  best  be 
described  by  those  of  a  modern  essayist,  who  says :  "  Cats  and  dogs  are, 
of  course,  the  most  satisfactory  pets  that  can  be  found  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  and,  with  all  deference  to  those  who  admire  the  indepen- 
dence and  indifference  to  human  affairs  of  the  cat-nature,  we  are  inclined  to 
think  that  the  nearer  a  cat  approaches  to  the  dog's  nature  the  more  agreeable 
it  is  as  a  friend.  For  instance,  a  cat  which,  like  one  we  have  known,  will  walk 
up  and  down  a  terrace  outside  a  country-house  with  an  inmate  of  the  house 
while  he  smokes,  is  obviously  a  more  convenient  acquaintance  than  one  that 
will  merely  accept  the  homage  of  a  crowd  of  admirers  with  lazy  content. 
Cats,  however,  are  frequently  unjustly  accused  of  indifference  and  absence  of 
affection.  Among  the  better  kind  of  them,  it  is  not  so  much  that  they  have 
no  affection  as  that  they  disdain  to  show  it  except  on  rare  occasions.  In  cases 
of  illness  they  have  been  known  to  wait  for  hours  outside  the  sufferer's  room  " 
(with  somewhat  of  the  emotions  of  the  dog-mourners  in  the  picture  by  Mr. 
Beard  which  we  have  engraved),  "  and  to  refuse  all  comfort  until  they 
are  admitted  to  learn  for  themselves  how  things  are  progressing.  No  doubt 
cats  are  less  constant  in  their  friendship  than  dogs,  less  ready  to  make  a  new 
acquaintance,  and  less  willing  to  admit  persons  outside  their  own  family  cir- 
cle to  their  friendship.  In  this  matter  dogs  of  any  fine  intellect  are  singu- 
larly gracious.  We  have  the  honor  of  knowing  a  Skye  terrier  and  a  Pomera- 
nian whose  recollection  of  a  former  friendship  of  some  mouths  is  so  constant 


J.     APPLETON    BROWN. 


117 


that,  no  matter  whether  a  day  or  a  year  intervene  between  our  meetings,  we 
are  always  received  with  expressions  of  delight,  which  in  both  cases  are  al- 
most hysterical,  and  in  that  of  the  Pomeranian  threaten  to  bring  on  a  fit." 
"  We  have  the  honor  of  knowing  a  Skye  terrier,"  that,  we  should  say,  is,  as 
far  as  it  goes,  an  exact  transcript  of  Mr.  Beard's  views. 

There  are  persons,  however,  both  writers  and  painters,  who  recognize  in  a 
cat's  or  dog's  nature  something  distinct  and  generically  different  from  their 
own.  When  writing  about  the  finest  of  these  animals,  they  take  care  to  de- 
scribe them  as  not  human,  and  to  draw  the  lines  of  definition.  When  paint- 
ing them  they  delineate  dog  and  cat  life,  dogs'  and  cats'  faces,  but  disdain  even 
to  suggest  a  human  relationship.  They  believe,  in  the  first  place,  that  a  beast's 
nature  is  essentially  different  from  a  man's ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  that  to 
confound  the  two  would  be  inartistic  as  well  as  untrue — inartistic,  because  in 
violation  of  the  laws  of  homogeneity.  Within  the  limits  of  the  beast's  na- 
ture they  find  ample  scope  for  the  constructive  imagination ;  within  those 
limits  they  are  able  to  disport  themselves  to  the  fullness  of  their  desire.  In 
the  mingling,  blending,  or  composing,  of  the  two  natures,  they  detect  the 
presence  of  intellectual  weakness  and  color-blindness;  what  God  has  dis- 
joined they  wish  no  man  to  put  in  juxtaposition.  "  Why,"  they  ask,  "  should 
cats  and  dogs  be  made  to  ape  the  manners  of  their  superiors  when  their  own 
manners  so  much  better  become  them  and  speak  for  them  ?  And  why  need 
an  artist  lay  himself  open  to  the  charge  of  being  incapacitated  to  discern  and 
to  represent  the  specific  nature  of  a  dog?  Everything  is  beautiful  in  its  sea- 
son, but  a  man-dog  is  always  unseasonable.  Give  us  the  dog  as  he  is,"  they 
say ;  "  he'  is  a  very  noble  brute ;  his  character  is  more  varied,  subtile,  and 
pleasing,  than  scores  of  his  so-called  betters.  Study  it  well,  aud  you  will  see 
that  it  is." 

Mr.  Beard  indisputably  has  studied  it  much,  and  his  pictures  are  very 
popular. 


Mr.  J.  Appleton  Brown  was  born  in  Newburyport,  Massachusetts,  on  the 
12th  of  July,  1844.  In  1807  and  1868  he  studied  with  Lambiuet,  the  French 
landscape-painter.     The  year   1874   also  he  spent  in  Paris.     His  works  are 


118 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


landscapes.  To  the  Salon  of  1875  he  contributed  two  views  of  Dives,  on  the 
French  coast.  In  the  summer  of  1878  he  exhibited  a  collection  of  nineteen 
of  his  pictures  in  Doyle's  Gallery  in  Boston.  "  A  visit  to  Mr.  Appleton 
Brown's  studio,'1  says  a  writer  in  Appletons'  Art  Journal,  "  shows  us  a  wall 
covered  with  brilliant  sketches.  He  renders  his  impressions  of  Nature  through 
great  masses  of  light  and  shade,  rich  color,  with  here  and  there  in  significant 
positions  firm  and  precise  outline,  or  solid,  definite  drawing.  Here  are  gnarled 
and  bent  fruit-trees  standing  on  exposed  hill-sides,  whose  twisted  branches  are 
in  one  portion  strongly  indicated,  and  in  another  vanishing  into  the  misty  sil- 
houette of  the  tree.  You  see  a  stunted  greensward  in  the  same  picture  reflect- 
ing the  heat  of  a  summer  sky,  or  the  mist  and  dampness  hug  the  grass  where 
its  pale  color  rises  faintly  against  an  old,  dark  undergrowth  at  twilight.  In 
one  picture  Mr.  Appleton  Brown  has  put  upon  his  canvas  some  stray  young 
willows,  whose  gawky,  rambling  arms  are  thrust  out  at  all  points  and  in  va- 
rious directions,  with  their  thin,  scant  foliage  on  the  tips  of  the  twigs,  that 
look  like  fingers,  suggesting  the  thought  of  dryad  transformations  where  the 
spirit  of  some  poor  soul  still  lingered  under  its  painful  body :  _j 

'  Yet  latent  life  through  her  new  branches  reigned, 
Ami  long  the  plant  a  human  heat  retained.' 

"  Mr.  Appleton  Brown  has  a  charming  picture  called  '  Apple-Blossoms,' 
and  in  it  is  shown  the  same  tender  love  of  Nature.  Bound  young  trees,  with 
their  outlines  melting  into  a  misty  atmosphere,  appear  the  young  shoots  of 
branches  decked  with  the  pure,  filmy  pink  of  the  delicate  flowers.  The  trunks 
are  not  yet  old,  nor  bent,  nor  moss-grown,  but  they  are  the  healthy  young 
trees  of  orchards  such  as  are  so  often  found  in  sheltered  nooks  and  in  the  hol- 
lows of  New  England  pasture-land,  where  the  low  granite  hills,  with  no  better 
growth  than  juniper  and  thin  grass,  protect  the  fruit-trees,  and  the  kitchen- 
garden  with  its  vegetables,  from  the  piercing  and  destructive  salt-winds  of  the 
sea.  The  ground  here  is  soft,  and  often  through  its  spongy  surface  little  brooks 
creep  along  lazily  to  find  an  outlet  somewhere,  or  they  lose  themselves  in  the 
earth.  Other  pictures  are  of  the  pooly  salt-meadows  near  the  sea — places  so 
remote  from  the  ocean  that  the  tide  never  overflows  them,  except  at  spring 
and    autumn    floods;    but  the  small  creeks  are  flooded  in  their  half-hidden 


0 

< 

«? 

2 

(T 

-s 

a 

«! 

w 

2 

S 

K 

^ 

W 

0. 

^3 

D. 

"■tt 

D 

5: 

W 

*i 

I 

Q 

J.     APPLETON    BROWN. 


I  I'.i 


courses  twice  a  day  from  the  ocean,  and  long,  coarse  marsh-grass  draggles  its 
heads  in  the  black  muck  when  the  creek  is  empty. 

''  But  it  is  not  alone  in  these  nooks  and  corners  about  Newburyport  that 
Mr.  Appleton  Brown  finds  his  inspiration,  for  two  or  three  large  canvases  arc 
filled  by  scenes  of  wild  ocean-storms.  Darkness,  and  clouds,  and  wind,  drive 
in  with  the  great,  green  waves  that  come  up  and  break  over  rock  and  sand. 
He  has  caught  the  cold,  green  color  of  the  sea ;  but  it  is  not  for  its  beauty  as 
a  pigment  that  his  color  impresses  the  imagination  most  powerfully,  fine  though 
the  hues,  but  the  tints  are  an  expression  of  the  weight,  the  density,  and  the 
mass,  of  the  water — of  the  sea  in  its  great  throes  of  fury.  Mr.  Appleton 
Brown  is  a  true  artist  in  spirit,  and  in  his  painting  is  entirely  separate  from 
the  worldly  considerations  of  what  subjects  will  be  popular  or  will  take  the 
market.  His  pictures  are  a  matter  of  conscience  with  him,  and,  though  he  has 
a  fine  and  true  eye  for  color,  he  uses  it  always,  as  in  the  sea-waves  we  have 
described,  not  for  its  sensuous  charm,  nor  yet  as  a  showy  palette,  but  each  tint 
of  blue  or  white,  green  or  scarlet,  is  so  important  on  his  canvas  to  carry  out 
his  ideas  and  purposes,  that  even  where  we  feel  the  richness  and  harmony  of 
his  tones,  the  amateur  cannot  fail  to  recognize  them  as  used  to  carry  out  a 
thought  or  a  suggestion,  and  not,  as  is  too  often  the  case  with  painters,  being 
laid  on  from  vain  display,  or  from  the  fascination  of  their  sensuous  beauty. 
Mannerism  is  totally  absent  from  his  work ;  and  whether  he  draws  the  details 
of  a  tree  with  pre-Raphaelite  care,  or  slurs  into  shapeless  masses  the  paint  upon 
his  canvas,  it  is  always  the  scene  that  is  in  his  mind  he  endeavors  to  evolve, 
and  not  to  make  a  pedantic  display  of  his  own  knowledge  of  painting.  His 
aims  as  a  painter  have  already  met  with  a  responsive  symjjathy  from  some  of 
the  most  cultivated  and  appreciative  persons  in  his  neighborhood.  His  first 
considerable  commission  was  from  Mr.  Thomas  G.  Appleton,  so  widely  known 
from  his  wit,  his  writings,  and  his  love  of  art.  Mr.  Martin  Brimmer,  one  of 
the  great,  energetic  lovers  and  promoters  of  painting  in  the  United  States,  and 
a  gentleman  of  the  highest  education  and  culture,  is  also  the  owner  of  a  fine 
picture  by  Mr.  Appleton  Brown;  while  Ernest  Longfellow,  the  artist,  and  a 
son  of  the  poet,  also  possesses  a  picture  of  his." 

Though  Mr.  Appleton  Brown  studied  with  Lambinet,  his  works  betray  the 
influence  of  Corot.     Some  of  his  drawings  in  black-and-white  are  exceedingly 

29 


220  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

impressive,  rich  in  the  fleeting  beauties  of  light  and  air,  and  full  of  tenderness 
and  sweet  mystery.  A  series  of  them  will  be  published  in  Appletons'  Art 
Journal  for  1879.  Professor  Barrett,  in  his  lectures  before  the  London  Insti- 
tute, has  shown  the  existence  of  an  analogy  between  color  and  music — a  rela- 
tionship between  the  vibrating  pitch  of  color  and  the  vibrating  pitch  of  sound. 
Certainly  there  is  color  in  these  sketches  made  with  the  crayon ;  perhaps  it  is 
not  stretching  language  too  far  to  say  that  there  is  music  in  them. 


Mr.  Francis  Hopkinson  Smith  was  born  in  Baltimore,  Maryland,  on  the 
23d  of  October,  1838.  He  belongs  to  a  family  of  artists.  His  great-grandfa- 
ther, Francis  Hopkinson,  a  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  was  an 
amateur  in  water-colors;  his  grandfather,  Judge  Joseph  Hopkinson,  was  the 
first  President  of  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  in  Philadelphia,  and  also  an  ama- 
teur painter ;  and  his  father,  though  not  an  artist,  was  at  least  the  cause  of 
one.  When  a  boy,  Mr.  Smith  began  to  paint,  and  he  has  been  painting  more 
or  less  ever  since,  whenever  he  has  had  the  leisure  to  do  so.  At  the  age  of 
sixteen  years  he  went  into  business,  but  since  that  time  it  has  been  his  habit 
to  devote  to  the  fine  arts  two  days  in  every  week,  and  two  summer  months  in 
every  year.  He  has  made  thousands  of  sketches  and  studies  in  the  open  air, 
the  greater  number  of  them  in  charcoal,  a  material  for  which  he  has  an  espe- 
cial fondness.  His  well-known  "  Franconia  Notch,"  a  wilderness  of  scenery — 
rocks  ]>iled  up  among  fallen  timber  in  early  morning — was  originally  a  char- 
coal-sketch. His  "  Under  the  Leaves,"  an  effect  of  light  streaming  along  and 
above  a  wood-path  under  the  trees,  is  owned  by  Mr.  W.  D.  Sloaue,  of  New 
York  City.  He  was  an  early  member  of  the  American  Water-Color  Society, 
and  is  now  its  treasurer.  He  is  a  member  of  the  Etching  Club,  and  was  a 
member  of  various  important  committees  during  the  Loan  Exhibition  of  the 
Society  of  Decorative  Art  in  the  National  Academy  of  Design  in  1877. 

To  the  Centennial  Exhibition  in  Philadelphia  Mr.  Smith  sent  a  large  water- 
color  drawing  entitled  "In  the  Darkling  Wood,  amid  the  Cool  and  Silence," 
which  \v,is  bought  by  a  gentleman  of  Chicago.     His  "  Cool  Spot "  in  the  forest 
—a  brook  winding  out  and  spreading  itself  into  a  pool  in  which  are  the  reflec- 
tions of  trees  and  rocks — is  in  the  gallery  of  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor,  of  New 


■■■|^MHHHHB^nHHMg|H 


§ 


s 


wHmmKHm  ■  '■■■  mk 


FR  A  N  C I S    II  <>  P  K I  .V  N  (i  N    S  U  I  Tit. 


121 


York  City.  His  "Lonely  Road,"  a  path  loading  through  the  woods,  the  u  hole 
very  gray-toned,  belongs  to  Mr.  George  C.  Clark.  Another  work  of  his  is 
"The  Old  Smithy,"  on  a  hot  August  morning,  in  a  misty,  hazy  atmosphere.  A 
reviewer  of  the  American  Water-Color  Society's  exhibition  in  1877  in  Apple- 
tons'  Art  Journal  says:  "Mr.  Hopkinson  Smith  is  seen  at  his  strongest  in 
charcoal,  in  which  he  excels,  but  his  'Looking  seaward'  is  a  well-balanced 
composition,  and  not  devoid  of  landscape  meaning,  with  perchance  a  slighl 
want  of  aerial  feeling.  His  '  Old  Smithy'  is  likewise  a  good  example,  vigor- 
ous, broad,  and  picturesque,  although  the  artist  runs  the  risk  of  diffusiveness 
by  working  over  such  large  surfaces.  Many  of  the  drawings  in  the  exhibition 
are  sweet  and  pleasant,  but  simply  deficient  in  the  main  requisites  of  works  of 
art  and  faltering  in  execution.  This  does  not  apply  to  Mr.  Hopkinson  Smith's 
charcoals,  which  are  admirable — the  more  so  that  their  artist  ranks  as  an  ama- 
teur— and  assert  their  power  and  equality  even  from  the  altitude  to  which 
most  of  them  have  been  raised.  They  display  on  Mr.  Smith's  part  a  sincere 
feeling  for  Nature  and  a  comprehension  of  variety  in  landscape,  which  in 
other  parts  of  the  exhibition  is  not  seldom  conspicuous  by  its  absence.  '  Bald- 
Mountain  Rocks,'  'A  Mountain  Pasture,'  and  'Under  the  Leaves,'  are  all  dis- 
tinct in  character.  The  first  mentioned  of  these  is  the  most  complete  as  a  com- 
position by  reason  of  its  simplicity ;  the  second  named  has  a  deficiency  of 
color,  which  suggests  winter ;  and  the  latter  might  be  improved  by  a  closer 
study  of  tree-form.  It  is  easy,  however,  to  discover  flaws,  and  Mr.  Smith's 
love  for  art  will  probably  lead  him  onward." 

Mr.  Smith  is  not  only  seen  at  his  strongest  in  charcoal,  but  he  prefers  char- 
coal to  lead,  to  oils,  or  to  water-colors.  Doubtless  he  woidd  not  go  so  far  as 
to  call  color  in  a  picture  a  defect  and  a  hinderance,  as  the  elder  Kaulbach 
calls  it ;  but  he  certainly  would  assent  heartily  to  the  most  appreciative  esti- 
mates of  landscape-drawing  in  charcoal — to  this  estimate,  for  example  :  "  The 
process  possesses  precious  advantages  for  the  skilled  draughtsman.  It  com- 
bines some  of  the  characteristics  of  painting  with  all  those  proper  to  drawing 
with  chalk,  great  felicity,  richness  of  color,  and  unusual  freedom.  Besides 
these  merits,  passage  aufumin  has  something  which  may,  for  want  of  a  better 
name,  be  called  pathetic  in  the  sobriety,  breadth,  and  severity,  of  its  peculiar 
aspect.     Sentiment  is  not,  of  course,  to  be  had  ready  made  by  this  process^ 


1-2-2 


A  M  E  RIGAN    rAI  N  T  E  /.'  S . 


but  every  one  familiar  with  its  results  will  admit  that  it  lends  itself  to  pathetic 
touches,  and  assists  in  their  expression  ;  that  its  deep  shadows  are  rich  and 
soft  as  velvet,  and  its  high  and  atmospheric  lights  aerial  and  translucent  as  a 
summer  cloud." 


Mr.  Thomas  Morax  was  born  in  Bolton,  Lancashire,  England,  on  the  12th 
of  January,  1837.  In  his  seventh  year  he  came  to  this  country  with  his 
parents,  and  in  his  eighteenth  year  was  apprenticed  to  a  wood-engraver  in 
Philadelphia.  He  studied  water-color  art  without  a  teacher,  and  made  some 
successful  pictures.  His  first  oil-painting  was  a  subject  from  Shelley's  poem 
••  Alastor."  In  1862  he  visited  England,  and  paid  especial  attention  to  Tur- 
ner's landscapes ;  in  1866  he  again  went  to  England,  and  gave  his  time  to  the 
old  masters  in  the  English  galleries,  and  in  France  and  Italy.  The  next  year 
he  returned  to  America,  and  in  1871  accompanied  Professor  Hayden's  explor- 
ing expedition  to  the  Yellowstone  River,  where  he  made  the  sketches  which 
he  afterward  used  in  painting  his  celebrated  "  Grand  Canon  of  the  Yellow- 
stone " — a  work  for  which  the  United  States  Government  paid  him  ten  thou- 
sand dollars.  Of  Major  J.  W.  Powell's  expedition  to  the  canon  of  the  Colo- 
rado he  was  a  member  in  1873  ;  and  his  picture  of  the  "  Canon  of  the  Colora- 
do "  also  was  purchased  by  the  Government  for  ten  thousand  dollars.  The 
next  year  he  painted  his  "  Mountain  of  the  Holy  Cross,"  from  original  studies. 
Other  works  of  his  are  "  The  Last  Arrow,"  "  The  Ripening  of  the  Leaf," 
"  Dreamland,"  "  The  Groves  were  God's  First  Temples,"  "  The  Pictured  Rocks 
of  Lake  Superior,"  "  The  Conemaugh  in  Autumn,"  "  The  First  Ship,"  "  The 
Flight  into  Egypt,"  "The  Remorse  of  Cain,"  "The  Children  of  the  Mountain," 
"  The  Track  of  the  Storm,"  and  "  The  Pons  de  Leon,  Florida,"  which  is  in  the 
Corcoran  Gallery  in  Washington.     His  wife  is  also  an  accomplished  artist. 

A  critic  who  saw  Mr.  Moran's  "  Mountain  of  the  Holy  Cross  "  during  its 
exhibition  in  New  York  in  April,  1875,  wrote  concerning  it  as  follows:  "To 
tin'  technical  merits  of  Mr.  Moran's  work  the  highest  praise  may  be  awarded. 
The  foreground  is  charmingly  painted,  the  color  is  unusually  pure  and  truth- 
ful, the  rocks  have  all  the  solidity  of  Nature,  the  foliage  is  crisp  and  well 
defined,  and  there  is  motion   in  the  water.     At  the  same  time,  the  aerial  per- 


A     GLIMPSE     OF     FRANCONIA     NOTCH,     NEW     HAMPSHIRE. 

From  a  Painting  by  Francis  Hopkinson  Smith. 


\>.  122. 


THOMAS    MORAN. 


123 


spective  has  been  managed  with  so  much  skill  that  the  spectator  really  feels 
as  if  the  grand  mountain,  on  which  shines  the  glittering  cross,  were  mam 
miles  away.  In  its  general  treatment,  '  The  Mountain  of  the  Holy  Cross ' 
reminds  us  strongly  of  the  studies  of  Calame,  that  almost  unrivaled  painter  of 
wild  mountain-scenery,  though  at  the  same  time  we  fully  recognize  the  fact 
that  Mr.  Moran's  work  bears  the  unmistakable  stamp  of  originality,  and  we 
think  that  it  will  unquestionably  take  rank  as  one  of  the  finest  examples  of 
American  landscape-art  that  has  yet  been  produced.  Mr.  Moran  may  well  be 
proud  of  a  work  exhibiting  so  much  technical  skill,  combined  with  such  noble 
simplicity  and  even  severity  of  treatment ;  and  all  who  take  an  interest 
in  the  progress  of  American  art  must  gratefully  recognize  the  fact  that  at 
last  we  have  among  us  an  artist  eminently  capable  of  interpreting  the 
sentiment  of  our  wilder  mountain-scenery  in  a  style  commensurate  with  its 
grandeur  and  beauty."  This  picture  is  in  the  gallery  of  the  Philadelphia 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts.  Mr.  Moran  is  a  member  of  the  Society  of  American 
Artists.  He  is  extremely  felicitous  in  selecting  his  subjects,  and  in  bringing 
them  within  the  conditions  of  pictorial  treatment ;  he  has  a  fine  sense  of  the 
mysterious  world  of  light  and  shade,  and  of  the  color  and  the  glory  of  Nature; 
and  he  has  studied  Turner  probably  longer  and  more  faithfully  than  any  other 
American  artist.  In  a  conversation  with  the  present  writer  he  said  :  "  Turner 
is  a  great  artist,  but  he  is  not  understood,  because  both  painters  and  the  public 
look  upon  his  pictures  as  transcriptions  of  Nature.  He  certainly  did  not  so 
regard  them.  All  that  he  asked  of  a  scene  was  simply  how  good  a  medium  it 
was  for  making  a  picture  ;  he  cared  nothing  for  the  scene  itself.  Literally 
speaking,  his  landscapes  are  false  ;  but  they  contain  his  impressions  of  Nature, 
and  so  many  natural  characteristics  as  were  necessary  adequately  to  convey 
that  impression  to  others.  The  public  does  not  estimate  the  quality  of  his 
work  by  his  best  paintings,  but  by  his  latest  and  crazier  ones,  in  which  real- 
ism is  entirely  thrown  overboard.  '  The  Fighting  Temeraire,'  for  example, 
which  even  Ruskin  praises  so  extravagantly,  is  the  most  inharmonious,  crude, 
and  disagreeable,  of  all  his  productions.  Its  merit  lies  only  in  its  plan  and 
composition.  I  think  that  one  of  his  best  pictures  is  the  '  Crossing  the  Brook,' 
in  the  London  National  Gallery  ;  it  is  simple,  quiet,  gray  in  color  ;  the  harmo- 
nies of  its  grays  are  wonderful.     It  is  perhaps  the  most  suggestive  of  Claude 

30 


124  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

of  all  his  canvases.  His  aim  is  parallel  with  the  greatest  poets  who  deal  not 
with  literalism  or  naturalism,  and  whose  excellence  cannot  be  tested  by  such 
a  standard.  He  tries  to  combine  the  most  beautiful  natural  forms  and  the 
most  beautiful  natural  colors,  irrespective  of  the  particular  place  he  is  pre- 
senting. He  generalizes  Nature  always ;  and  so  intense  was  his  admiration 
for  color  that  everything  else  was  subservient  to  that.  He  would  falsify  the 
color  of  any  object  in  his  picture  in  order  to  produce  what  he  considered  to 
be  an  harmonious  whole.  In  other  words,  he  sacrificed  the  literal  truth  of 
the  parts  to  the  higher  truth  of  the  whole.  And  he  was  right.  Art  is  not 
Nature ;  an  aggregation  of  ten  thousand  facts  may  add  nothing  to  a  picture, 
but  be  rather  the  destruction  of  it.  The  literal  truth  counts  for  nothing ;  it 
is  within  the  grasp  of  any  one  who  has  had  an  ordinary  art-education.  The 
mere  restatement  of  an  external  scene  is  never  a  work  of  art,  is  never  a  pict- 
ure. What  a  picture  is,  I  cannot  define  any  more  than  I  can  define  poetry. 
We  know  a  poem  when  we  read  it,  and  we  know  a  picture  when  we  see  it ; 
but  the  latter  is  even  less  capable  of  definition  than  the  former. 

"  My  pictures  vary  so  much  that  even  artists  who  are  good  judges  do  not 
recognize  them  from  year  to  year.  Two  years  ago  I  sent  to  the  National 
Academy  Exhibition  some  gray  pictures,  altogether  unlike  my  previous 
work.  My  life,  so  far,  has  been  a  series  of  experiments,  and,  I  suppose,  will  be 
until  I  die.  I  never  painted  a  picture  that  was  not  the  representation  of  a 
distinct  impression  from  Nature.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  bane  of  American 
art  is  that  our  artists  paint  for  money,  and  repeat  themselves,  so  that  in  many 
instances  you  can  tell  the  parentage  of  a  picture  the  moment  you  look  at  it. 
It  is  not  true  that  the  public  require  such  a  repetition  on  the  part  of  the 
artist.  Men  who  are  constantly  rehashing  themselves  do  so  from  sheer  ina- 
bility to  do  otherwise.  There  is  a  lack  of  that  genuine  enthusiasm  among 
our  artists  without  which  no  great  work  can  be  produced.  I  believe  that  an 
artist's  personal  characteristics  may  be  told  from  his  pictures.  Who  wouldn't 
know,  for  example,  that  Frederick  E.  Church  is  a  man  of  refinement?  His 
works  are  full  of  refinement — refinement  in  touch,  delicacy  of  form,  delicacy 
of  color.  If  a  man's  studio  is  simply  a  manufactory  of  paintings,  which  shall 
tickle  the  ignorant  in  art ;  if  he  is  continually  repeating  himself  in  order  to 
sell   his  pictures  more  rapidly  or  easily,  this  fact  will  convey  itself  to  every 


if 


Mi 


$ 


THOMAS    MORAN.  125 

intelligent  mind.  The  pleasure  a  man  feels  will  go  into  his  work,  and  he  can- 
not have  pleasure  in  being  a  mere  copyist  of  himself — in  producing  paintings 
which  are  not  the  offspring  of  his  own  fresh  and  glowing  impressions  of 
Nature.  At  the  present  time  there  is  a  revival  in  American  art.  Our  young 
men  who  have  been  studying  in  Europe  are  fully  as  accomplished  as  their 
masters.  They  understand  the  technique  of  their  art  just  as  well.  It  now 
remains  for  them  to  show  whether  or  not  they  possess  invention,  originality, 
the  poetic  impulse,  the  qualities  which  constitute  a  painter.  I  myself  think 
they  are  a  most  hopeful  lot.  Some  of  them  make  a  mistake,  I  think,  in  set- 
ting up  a  living  artist  for  a  model,  and  imitating  him,  when  only  time  can 
test  his  true  value.  The  grand  old  painters,  whose  worth  the  centuries  have 
attested,  are  overlooked.  The  fountain-head  of  inspiration  is  ignored.  Not 
only  is  it  a  modern  man  that  is  set  up,  but  often  a  second  or  third  rate  mod- 
ei'n  man.  The  Shakespeares,  the  Dantes,  and  the  Homers  of  art  are  forgotten. 
Of  course,  Raphael,  Michael  Angelo,  and  Titian,  did  not  treat  modern  themes, 
and  therefore  in  certain  respects  are  not  so  serviceable  as  the  present  celeb- 
rities in  Paris  and  Munich ;  but  all  the  essential  principles  of  art  are  immor- 
tal :  the  subject  is  unimportant,  the  application  of  those  principles  is  univer- 
sal ;  the  same  qualities  that  made  their  possessors  famous  in  the  days  of  the 
Renaissance  are  of  paramount  importance  now.  I  hold  that  modern  art  is 
not  equal  to  the  ancient. 

"  I  place  no  value  upon  literal  transcripts  from  Nature.  My  general  scope 
is  not  realistic ;  all  my  tendencies  are  toward  idealization.  Of  course,  all  art 
must  come  through  Nature :  I  do  not  mean  to  depreciate  Nature  or  natural- 
ism ;  but  I  believe  that  a  place,  as  a  place,  has  no  value  in  itself  for  the  artist 
only  so  far  as  it  furnishes  the  material  from  which  to  construct  a  picture.  To- 
pography in  art  is  valueless.  The  motive  or  incentive  of  my  '  Grand  Canon 
of  the  Yellowstone'  was  the  gorgeous  display  of  color  that  impressed  itself 
upon  me.  Probably  no  scenery  in  the  world  presents  such  a  combination. 
The  forms  are  extremely  wonderful  and  pictorial,  and,  while  I  desired  to  tell 
truly  of  Nature,  I  did  not  wish  to  realize  the  scene  literally,  but  to  preserve 
and  to  convey  its  true  impression.  Every  form  introduced  into  the  picture  is 
within  view  from  a  given  point,  but  the  relations  of  the  separate  parts  to  one 
another  are  not  always  preserved.     For  instance,  the  precipitous  rocks  ou  the 


126  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

right  were  really  at  my  "back  when  I  stood  at  that  point,  yet  in  their  present 
position  they  are  strictly  true  to  pictorial  Nature ;  and  so  correct  is  the  whole 
representation  that  every  member  of  the  expedition  with  which  I  was  con- 
nected declared,  when  he  saw  the  painting,  tLat  he  knew  the  exact  spot  which 
bad  been  reproduced.  My  aim  was  to  bring  before  the  public  the  character 
of  that  region.  The  rocks  in  the  foreground  are  so  carefully  drawn  that  a 
geologist  could  determine  their  precise  nature.  I  treated  them  so  in  order  to 
serve  my  purpose.  In  another  work,  '  The  Mountain  of  the  Holy  Cross,'  the 
foreground  is  intensely  realistic  also  :  its  granite  rocks  are  realized  to  the  far- 
thest point  that  I  could  carry  them  ;  and  the  idealization  of  the  scene  consists 
in  the  combination  and  arrangement  of  the  various  objects  in  it.  At  the  same 
time,  the  combination  is  based  upon  the  characteristics  of  the  place.  My  pur- 
pose was  to  convey  a  true  impression  of  the  region ;  and  as  for  the  elaborated 
rocks,  I  elaborated  them  out  of  pure  love  for  rocks.  I  have  studied  rocks 
carefully,  and  I  like  to  represent  them." 

Concerning  certain  living  European  artists,  Mr.  Moran  said :  "  Andreas 
Achenbach  lacks  poetry,  but  he  is  great  in  realizing  phases  of  Nature.  He 
is  not  idealistic  at  all.  Gerome  I  admire  for  his  conception  of  his  subject, 
and  for  his  extreme  refinement  and  beauty  of  drawing.  He  is  infinitely  the 
superior  of  Meissonier.  Meissonier's  art  is  of  a  lower  type,  in  the  sense  that 
a  pastoral  poem  is  lower  than  an  epic.  Intellectually,  emotionally,  poetically, 
Gerome  is  away  in  advance  of  Meissonier.  The  latter's  merits  are  chiefly 
dependent  upon  his  technique,  and  are  largely  of  a  mechanical  order.  In 
Gerorne's  works  you  lose  sight  of  his  methods,  and  become  interested  in  his 
subjects  and  in  the  people  who  make  them  up.  Gerome  is  an  idealist ;  he 
uses  realistic  material,  and  combines  it  ideally.  Meissonier,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  a  realist.  In  mechanical  skill  he  is  Gerome's  superior ;  but  Gerome 
does  not  try  to  reach  the  point  that  Meissonier  does.  If  he  carried  technical 
qualities  so  far  he  would  injure  his  pictures. 

"  Corot,  Rousseau,  Diaz,  and  Daubigny,  are  all  men  of  one  idea.  Diaz,  for 
example,  paints  forever  the  forest  of  Fontainebleau.  He  is  a  perpetual  copyist 
of  himself.  Now,  we  don't  care  to  live  on  one  dish  all  our  lives.  No  artist  is 
great  who  has  made  a  reputation  on  one  idea — and  Corot's  idea  was  a  very  in- 
definite one  at  that.     I  have  but  a  small  opinion  of  his  large  '  Orphee,'  recently 


SOLITUDE. 

From  a  Painting  by  Thomas  Moron. 


p.  127. 


THOMAS    MOHAN. 


127 


iii  the  Cottier  Collection.  The  work  is  bad  in  drawing — it  is  not  drawing  at 
all — and  certainly  it  cannot  be  called  color.  It  has  some  tone,  to  be  sine,  jusl 
as  black-and-white  may  have  tone  ;  but  there  is  in  it  no  quality  that  demanded 
a  canvas  of  that  size.  It  is  a  small  conception  of  the  subject  expended  on  a 
very  large  surface.  A  picture  ten  inches  by  twelve  would  have  given  all  thai 
this  picture  contains  probably  better  than  a  larger  one.  Indeed,  French  art, 
in  my  opinion,  scarcely  rises  to  the  dignity  of  landscape — a  swamp  and  a  tree 
constitute  its  sum  total.  It  is  more  limited  in  range  than  the  landscape-art  of 
any  other  country. 

"  I  am  not  an  admirer  of  Millet.  His  pictures  are  coarse  and  vulgar  in 
character ;  they  are  repulsive.  He  shows  us  only  the  ignorant  and  debased 
peasant ;  he  suggests  nothing  noble  or  high,  nothing  that  is  not  degraded. 
His  peasants  are  very  little  above  animals ;  they  do  not  look  capable  of  educa- 
tion, or  of  being  other  than  what  he  has  made  them.  In  fact,  I  think  he  libels 
the  French  peasantry.  Jules  Breton,  on  the  contrary,  impresses  them  with  a 
mentality  and  vigor  that  are  entirely  wanting  in  Millet's  representations,  and  he 
is  superior  to  Millet  in  technique.  He  is  an  excellent  painter,  and,  so  far  as  he 
introduces  into  his  peasants  the  elements  of  possible  progress,  and  gives  them  a 
character  above  their  station,  he  is  ideal.  Gabriel  Max  repeats  himself  a  little 
too  much  to  be  always  interesting.  Piloty  is  a  very  fine  painter,  rather  Aca- 
demic, perhaps ;  but  this  is  a  good  failing,  if  a  failing  at  all — an  error  that 
leans  to  the  right  side.  He  is  an  estimable  composer.  Carl  Hubner  is  a 
man  of  very  moderate  abilities ;  a  pretty  skillful  painter,  but  his  subjects  and 
the  character  indicated  in  them  are  of  a  low  order.  No  refined  connoisseur 
can  tolerate  pictures  of  this  kind.  Detaille  is  a  thorough  artist  ;  he  infuses  a 
wonderful  amount  of  character  into  his  works.  His  soldiers  are  distinct  and 
masterly  types.  Meyer  von  Bremen  is  too  small  to  express  an  opinion  upon. 
I  place  Verboeckhoven  substantially  in  the  same  category.  Bouguereau  is  a 
very  fine  painter — a  little  sentimental  in  contradistinction  to  dealing  in  sen- 
timent— and  lacks  vigor,  but  his  works  are  certainly  of  a  very  unobjection- 
able kind.  Many  of  his  earlier  pictures,  which  are  his  best,  are  very  beau- 
tiful from  every  point  of  view.  The  same  is  true  of  Merle.  Troyon's  paint- 
ings are  rather  coarse  in  character,  though  always  fresh  in  color,  while  not 
strictly  pictures  of  color.     He  uses  very  few  and  simple  pigments,  and  hence 


31 


128 


A  M  E  Rjc  A  -V    PAINTER  S. 


obtains  tonality  with  ease.  I  shouldn't  call  him  a  colorist,  by  any  means. 
Van  Marcke  is  a  better  artist ;  his  imagination  is  more  lively  and  more  va- 
ried. Modern  English  landscape-art  is  wanting  in  great  names.  Leighton  and 
Poynter  in  figures  are  admirable." 


The  ancestors  of  Mr.  Ashee  Brown  Durand,  who  are  said  to  have  been 
of  Huguenot  origin,  came  to  this  country  in  1680.  Two  brothers,  one  of  them 
a  surgeon,  settled  in  Connecticut.  Samuel  Durand,  the  grandfather  of  the 
artist,  established  himself  in  what  is  now  South  Orange  Township,  in  New 
Jersey,  in  a  village  named  Jefferson.  His  son,  John  Durand,  the  father  of  the 
artist,  was  an  ingenious  mechanician,  and,  though  a  farmer,  coidd  repair  his 
neighbors'  watches.  The  mother  of  the  artist  was  the  daughter  of  a  Hoi- 
lander.  She  had  eleven  children,  of  whom  Asher  Brown  Durand,  born  on 
the  21st  of  August,  1796,  was  the  eighth.  In  his  boyhood  he  used  to  beat 
out  copper  cents  in  order  to  get  plates  on  which  he  could  make  engravings,  the 
village  blacksmith  occasionally  lending  a  helping  hand.  A  Frenchman,  living 
at  Elizabethtown,  near  by,  having  seen  the  young  engraver's  efforts,  lent  him 
one  day  a  snuff-box,  on  which  was  a  miniature  portrait,  in  order  that  he  might 
make  a  copy  of  it.  Mr.  Smith,  a  lawyer,  took  him  to  New  York  to  call  on 
a  Mr.  Leney,  an  engraver,  who  offered  to  admit  the  youth  into  the  mysteries 
of  his  craft  for  the  modest  sum  of  one  thousand  dollars.  Not  long  afterward 
an  engraver  in  Newark,  New  Jersey,  took  him  as  an  apprentice,  and  saw  him 
excelling  his  new  master.  An  engraving  of  an  old  beggar,  from  a  head  painted 
by  Waldo  and  Jewitt,  attracted  the  attention  of  Colonel  Trumbull,  and 
brought  from  that  gentleman  an  order  for  an  engraving  of  his  painting,  "The 
Declaration  of  Independence."  The  price  named  was  three  thousand  dollars ; 
the  time  consumed  was  six  years  ;  the  best  result  was  the  establishment  of 
Durand's  reputation.  Orders  for  prints  came  in  abundance,  and  the  success- 
ful artist  proceeded  to  engrave  original  portraits  of  celebrated  clergymen — of 
Romeyn,  Macleod,  Boudinot,  Summerfield,  and  others.  To  the  National  Por- 
trait Gallery  he  made  important  contributions.  He  furnished  plates  annually 
to  the  Talisman.  But  perhaps  his  most  notable  achievements  with  the  burin 
were  the  celebrated  ideal  figures,  "Musidora"  and  "Ariadne,"  which  he  en- 


BROOK,     AND     VISTA     IN     THE     MOUNTAINS. 
From  a  Painting  by  Asher  Brown  Durand. 


p.  129. 


AS  HER    BROWN    BUR  AND.  129 

graved  from  designs  of  his  own,  and  in  which  his  success  in  the  representation 
of  flesh  was  almost  marvelous. 

As  early  as  the  year  1830  Mr.  Durand  had  turned  his  attention  to  paint- 
ing, and  in  1840  he  went  to  Europe  to  prosecute  his  studies  in  that  direction, 
staid  a  year,  and  made  copies  of  some  Titians  and  Rembrandts.  On  his  re- 
turn, his  first  preference  was  for  historical  figure-painting,  but  the  general 
absence  of  models,  costumes,  and  other  facilities,  having  discouraged  him,  he 
resolved  to  try  himself  in  portrait-painting — not,  however,  until  he  had  pro- 
duced his  "  Wrath  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,"  now  in  the  New  York  Historical 
Society's  gallery,  and  other  works.  His  portraits  became  very  popular,  and 
he  received  orders  sufficient  to  have  occupied  all  his  available  time.  He  was 
on  the  road  to  wealth.  He  found  that  every  American,  who  had  a  hundred 
dollars  to  spare  for  pictures,  wished  to  get  portraits  of  a  wife  and  child.  But, 
as  he  had  abandoned  the  burin  for  the  brush  because  he  desired  larger  artistic 
liberty  and  opportunity,  so,  for  the  same  reason,  he  discarded  the  lucrative 
painting  of  portraits  for  the  painting  of  landscapes.  He  had  already  produced 
verisimilitudes  in  oil  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  Andrew  Jackson,  James  Madi- 
son, Edward  Everett,  William  Cullen  Bryant,  and  Luman  Reed,  who  was  one 
of  his  earliest  and  most  generous  patrons,  and  had  been  a  faithful  friend  to 
Cole  and  Mount.  "  Did  you  ever  find  a  man,"  once  asked  Mount  of  Durand, 
"  who  entered  into  your  feelings  as  Mr.  Reed  does  ?  "  The  pictures  of  Adams 
and  Madison  are  hanging  in  the  rooms  of  the  Century  Club  of  New  York 
City. 

The  mention  of  Mr.  Bryant's  name  suggests  the  fact  of  a  resemblance 
between  the  aims  and  the  methods  of  Mr.  Durand  and  those  of  the  author 
of  "  Thanatopsis."  The  works  of  each  are  replete  with  American  woodland 
feeling,  which  tells  not  only  of  the  observant  eye,  but  also  of  the  sensitive 
soul.  They  are  the  outcome  of  personal  communion  with  Nature,  the  expres- 
sion of  the  man's  sentiments  in  the  presence  of  the  stillness  and  the  solitude 
of  insensate  things.  They  are  poetry  "  inspired  by  love  and  delight  in  that 
benignant,  bounteous,  and  beauteous  Nature  which,  all  over  the  earth,  repays 
with  a  heavenly  happiness  the  grateful  worship  of  her  children."  Mr.  Du- 
rand's  "  In  the  Woods,"  owned  by  Mrs.  Jonathan  Sturgis,  of  New  York,  and 
his  "  Primeval  Forest,"  in  the  gallery  of  Mrs.  E.  D.  Nelson,  of  the  same  city, 


^30  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

are  "  Forest  Hymns."  They  are  not  views  or  landscapes  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  those  words.  Even  his  studies  in  the  White  Mountains,  in  the  Cats- 
kills,  in  the  Adirondack^,  on  the  Hudson  River,  and  on  Lake  George,  are  not 
actual  representations,  but  compositions  arranged  and  selected  so  as  to  pro- 
duce special  impressions.  "  Where  did  you  get  that  ?  "  asked  a  fellow-artist 
one  day,  while  looking  at  an  elaborate  study  in  Mr.  Durand's  collection ;  "  I 
never  saw  that  place.'1  Of  course,  he  had  never  seen  it  before.  It  had  been 
made  to  order.  Some  of  Mr.  Durand's  pictures  are  considered  to  be  too  green 
in  tone  ;  but  the  painter  of  them  replies  that  in  our  American  landscapes 
green  predominates  :  our  mountains  are  covered  with  trees,  while  in  Europe 
the  peaks  and  crests  are  often  all  rock. 

Mr.  Durand  has  long  had  great  pleasure  in  the  appreciation  and  friendship 
of  his  brother-artists.  When  he  was  seventy-six  years  old,  a  number  of  these 
gentlemen  and  their  wives  planned  a  surprise-party  at  his  home  in  South 
Orange,  New  Jersey.  The  intention  was  to  have  a  picnic  in  the  woods,  but 
when  the  day  arrived — the  8th  of  June,  1872 — the  rain  was  falling  fast,  and 
they  set  their  table  in  the  wide  piazza  of  the  charming  house.  Among  them 
were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jervis  McEntee,  Mr.  Sanford  R  Gifford,  Mr.  George  H. 
Hall,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Hart,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  David  Johnson,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Eastman  Johnson,  Mr.  Launt  Thompson,  Mr.  J.  Q.  A.  Ward,  Mi-.  J.  Volmer- 
ing,  Mr.  J.  R.  Brevoort,  Mr.  J.  M.  Falconer,  Mr.  W.  J.  Hays,  Mr.  R,  W.  Hub- 
bard, Mr.  J.  F.  Kensett,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E.  D.  Palmer,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas 
Hicks,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Worthington  Whittredge,  Mr.  William  Page,  Miss  Bas- 
comb,  and  several  other  ladies.  Mr.  William  Cullen  Bryant  also  was  present, 
and  made  one  of  his  felicitous  speeches.  Other  speakers  were  Messrs.  Palmer, 
Gifford,  E.  Johnson,  Hicks,  McEntee,  Kensett,  Page,  Falconer,  Brevoort,  and 
F.  B.  Mayer,  who  tendered  the  congratulations  and  best  wishes  of  the  com- 
pany to  the  venerable  artist.  Of  sports  of  various  sorts  there  was  an  abun- 
dance. The  occasion  was  one  that  will  not  soon  be  forgotten  by  the  persons 
who  brought  it  into  existence.  No  other  American  painter,  perhaps,  has  ever 
been  the  recipient  of  such  a  token  of  affection  and  esteem. 

Twenty-five  years  ago  Mr.  Durand  wrote  a  series  of  letters  to  a  young 
landscape-painter,  and  published  them  in  The  Crayon,  an  art  journal,  owned 
by  his  sun,  Mr.  John  Durand.     The  following  extracts  from  those  letters  are 


Id 

J 

m 

< 

<-> 

U) 

D 

s? 

< 

■*• 

u 

•^ 
>■=> 

I 

H 

s 

a 

h 

£ 

0 

s 

* 

m 

bn 

X 

Z 

.J 

< 

< 

01 

> 

Z 

1 

z 

D 

V) 

ASHER    BROWN    DURAND.  131 

competent  representatives  of  his  views  on  the  functions  of  art:  "I  maintain 
that  all  art  is  unworthy  and  vicious  which  is  at  variance  with  truth,  and  th.u 
that  only  is  worthy  and  elevated  which  impresses  us  with  the  same  feelings 
and  emotions  that  we  experience  in  the  presence  of  the  reality.  True  art 
teaches  the  use  of  the  embellishments  which  Nature  herself  furnishes ;  it 
never  creates  them.  All  the  fascination  of  treatment  in  light  and  dark  and 
color  are  seen  in  Nature ;  they  are  the  luxuries  of  her  storehouse,  and  must 
be  used  with  intelligence  and  discrimination  to  be  wholesome  and  invigorat- 
ing. If  abused  and  adulterated  by  the  poisons  of  conventionalism,  the  result 
will  be  the  corruption  of  veneration  for  and  faith  in  the  simple  truths  of  Na- 
ture, which  constitute  the  true  religion  of  art,  and  the  only  safeguard  against 
the  inroads  of  heretical  conventionalism.  If  you  should  ask  me  to  define 
conventionalism,  I  should  say  that  it  is  the  substitution  of  an  easily-expressed 
falsehood  for  a  difficult  truth.  But  why  discuss  this  point  ?  Is  it  not  a  tru- 
ism admitted  by  all  ?  Far  from  it.  Or,  if  it  be  admitted  as  a  principle,  it  is 
constantly  violated  by  the  artist  in  his  practice,  and  this  violation  sanctioned 
by  the  learned  critic  and  connoisseur.  The  fresh  green  of  summer  must  be 
muddled  with  brown ;  the  pure  blue  of  the  clear  sky,  and  the  palpitating 
azure  of  distant  mountains,  deadened  with  lifeless  gray ;  while  the  gray, 
unsheltered  rocks  must  be  warmed  up  and  clothed  with  the  lichens  of  their 
forest  brethren — tricks  of  impasto  or  transparency  without  character ;  vacant 
breadth  and  unmitigated  darkness  ;  fine  qualities  of  color  without  local  mean- 
ing, and  many  other  perversions  of  truth,  are  made  objects  of  artistic  study  to 
the  death  of  all  true  feeling  for  art — and  all  this  under  the  name  of  improve- 
ments on  Nature.  To  obtain  truthfulness  is  so  much  more  difficult  than  to 
obtain  the  power  of  telling  facile  falsehoods,  that  one  need  not  wonder  that 
some  delusive  substitute  holds  the  place  which  Nature  should  hold  in  the 
artist's  mind. 

"  Every  experienced  artist  knows  that  it  is  difficult  to  see  Nature  truly ; 
that  for  this  end  long  practice  is  necessary.  We  see  yet  perceive  not,  and  it 
becomes  necessary  to  cultivate  our  perception  so  as  to  comprehend  the  essence 
of  the  object  seen.  The  poet  sees  in  Nature  more  than  mei'e  matter-of-fact,  yet 
he  does  not  see  more  than  is  there,  nor  what  another  may  not  see  when  he 
points  it  out.     His  is  only  a  more  perfect  exercise  of  perception,  just  as  the 

32 


132  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

drapery  of  a  fine  statue  is  seen  by  the  common  eye  and  pronounced  beautiful, 
and  by  the  enlightened  observer  who  also  pronounces  it  beautiful ;  but  the 
one  ascribes  the  beauty  to  the  graceful  folding,  the  other  to  its  expression  of 
the  figure  beneath,  while  neither  sees  more  nor  less  in  quantity  than  the  other, 
but  with  unequal  degrees  of  completeness  in  perception.  Now,  the  highest 
beauty  of  this  drapery  consists  in  the  perfection  of  its  disposition  so  as  best 
to  indicate  the  beautiful  form  it  clothes,  not  possessing  of  itself  too  much 
attractiveness,  nor  losing  its  value  by  too  strongly  defining  the  figure.  And 
so  should  we  look  on  external  Nature.  Why  have  the  creations  of  Raphael 
conferred  on  hint  the  title  of  '  divine?'  Because  he  saw  through  the  sensuous 
veil,  and  embodied  the  spiritual  beauty  with  which  Nature  is  animate,  and  in 
whose  presence  the  baser  '  passions  shrink  and  tremble  and  are  still.1 

"All  that  has  made  Claude  preeminent  is  truthfulness  of  representation  in 
his  light,  and  atmosphere,  and  moving  waters — if  other  portions  of  his  works 
were  equally  true,  he  would  be  still  greater.  And  why  have  the  nobler 
compositions  of  Gaspar  Poussin  given  him  only  an  inferior  rank,  unless  it  is 
because  they  lack  in  corresponding  truthfulness  ?  I  might  instance  hundreds 
of  others,  ancient  and  modern,  who  owe  their  reputation  to  the  degree  of  rep- 
resentative and  imitative  truth  which  distinguishes  their  works.  All  the 
license  that  the  artist  can  claim  or  desire  is  to  choose  the  time  and  place 
where  Nature  displays  her  chief  perfections,  whether  of  beauty  or  majesty 
repose  or  action.  There  is  not  a  tint  of  color,  nor  phase  of  light  and  dark,  nor 
force  nor  delicacy,  nor  gradation  nor  contrast,  nor  any  charm  that  the  most 
inventive  imagination  ever  employed,  or  conceived  worthy  to  be  regarded  as 
beautiful,  or  as  in  any  other  respect  fitting  to  the  aim  of  art,  that  is  not  to  be 
seen  in  Nature,  more  beautiful  and  more  fitting  than  art  has  ever  realized  or 
ever  can.  Pictures  abound  which  display  the  complete  mastery  of  all  the 
technicalities  of  art,  fascinating  by  the  most  dexterous  execution  and  brilliancy 
of  color,  yet  false  to  Nature  and  destitute  of  all  that  awakens  thought  or  inter- 
ests the  feelings. 

"  Much  has  been  said  by  writers  on  art  as  well  as  artists,  in  disparage- 
ment of  what  they  call  servile  imitation  of  Nature,  as  unworthy  of  genius  and 
degrading  to  art,  cramping  invention,  and  fettering  the  imagination — in  short, 
productive  only  of  mere  matter-of-fact  works.      What  is  meant  by  'servile 


MORNING. 
/■>«/«  a  Fainting  by  Horace   Wolcott  Robbins 


p   188. 


HORACE     WOLCOTT    ROBBINS.  133 

imitation,'  so  called,  is  difficult  to  understand.  If  its  meaning  is  limited  to 
that  view  of  realism  which  accepts  commonplace  forms  and  appearances,  with- 
out searching  for  the  ideal  of  natural  beauty,  the  objections  are  valid  ;  but  if 
it  comprehends  the  faithful  representation  of  all  that  is  most  beautiful  and 
best  fitted  for  the  entire  purposes  of  art,  really  existing  and  accessible,  and 
ever  waiting  to  be  gathered  up  by  earnest  love  and  untiring  labor,  then  it  is 
an  utter  fallacy,  born  of  indolence  and  conceit.  It  is  by  reverent  attention  to 
the  realized  forms  of  Nature  alone  that  art  is  enabled,  by  its  delegated  power, 
to  reproduce  some  measure  of  the  profound  and  elevated  emotions  which  the 
contemplation  of  the  visible  works  of  God  awaken." 

The  evening  of  his  life  Mr.  Durand  is  passing  in  his  charming  country- 
home,  within  the  shadow  of  the  Orange  Mountain,  in  the  presence  of  all  man- 
ner of  comfort  and  luxury,  amid  the  constant  oblations  of  the  fondest  and 
most  considerate  filial  affection,  his  eye  undimmed,  his  brush  still  active,  his 
fame  secure,  his  retrospect  unperturbed,  his  prospect  sunny  as  the  landscapes 
that  he  loves,  himself  and  his  surroundings  a  subject  to  allure  a  painter. 
Whom  the  gods  love  do  not  always  die  young. 


Mr.  Horace  Wolcott  Robbins  was  bom  in  Mobile,  Alabama,  on  the  21st 
of  October,  1842.  His  father  and  mother,  who  were  natives  of  New  England, 
removed  to  Baltimore  in  1848,  and  in  a  few  years  placed  him  in  Newton 
University  in  that  city.  After  taking  lessons  in  drawing  of  August  Wei- 
denbach,  a  German  landscape-painter,  he  went  to  New  York  and  entered  the 
studio  of  Mr.  James  M.  Hart.  In  1863  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Cen- 
tury Club,  and  in  1864  an  Associate  of  the  National  Academy.  In  1865  he 
visited  the  island  of  Jamaica  in  company  with  Mr.  F.  E.  Church,  and  sketched 
industriously  for  several  months.  Then  he  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  England ; 
spent  many  weeks  in  Holland  in  the  presence  of  the  landscapes  of  Ruysdael, 
Hobbema,  and  other  masters,  and  opened  a  studio  in  Paris,  where  he  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  receive  some  instruction  from  Rousseau,  and  to  meet  Fro- 
mentin,  Diaz,  and  similarly  distinguished  men.  "  It  is  always  a  problem," 
says  Mr.  Robbins,  "  to  determine  how  far  or  how  much  a  favorite  painter  may 
be  studied.     One's  temperament,  of  course,  must  be  taken  into  consideration. 


!34  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

A  mind  too  easily  impressed  is  with  difficulty  able  to  resist  the  fascinations 
that  beset  it,  and  the  result  may  be  a  sickly  dilution  of  a  great  man's  manner- 
ism, without  his  ability  or  originality.  I  have  tried  to  be  myself,  and  to  rep- 
resent Nature  as  she  impresses  me.  While  a  firm  believer  in  the  doctrine  that 
an  artist  must  be  an  interpreter  of  Nature,  I  believe  also  that  long  years  of 
close  study  of  facts  and  details,  of  careful  drawing  and  local  coloring,  are 
requisite  to  accomplish  this  successfully.  It  is  the  well-trained  artist  alone 
who  is  competent  to  give  his  '  impressions  '  or  '  renderings '  of  Nature's  moods, 
to  paint  '  broadly '  and  '  suggestively ; '  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  has  been 
observed  that  good  artists  paint  more  broadly  as  they  get  older.  There  is  a 
facility  that  is  fatal  to  permanent  success  in  art — that  makes  close  study  seem 
torture  and  improvement  impossible.  The  world  appears  to  forget  that  even 
men  like  Corot,  whose  work  is  characterized  by  breadth  and  freedom,  did,  in 
the  earlier  period  of  their  lives,  make  laborious  and  faithful  transcriptions 
from  Nature.  Having  for  years  studied  her  anatomy,  her  material  form  and 
parts,  they  became  able,  later  in  life,  to  give  original  expression  to  her  subtile 
moods  and  phases." 

In  1866  Mr.  Robbins  sketched  in  Switzerland,  and  again  took  a  studio  in 
Paris.  The  next  year  was  the  year  of  the  great  International  Exhibition  in 
that  city — a  season  of  unusual  opportunities,  which  he  proceeded  to  make  the 
most  of.  He  returned  to  New  York  in  the  autumn  of  1867,  and  has  painted 
seven  or  eight  landscapes  annually  ever  since.  His  summers  have  been  passed 
principally  in  the  Farmington  Valley,  in  Connecticut,  where  he  found  the 
materials  for  his  "Roadside  Elms  "  and  "Mount  Philip,"  which  were  exhibited 
in  the  Goupil  Gallery  in  New  York.  His  views  in  Virginia,  New  Hampshire, 
Vermont,  Maine,  Jamaica,  Germany,  France,  and  Switzerland,  embrace  land- 
scapes of  widely-varied  beauty. 

Mr.  Robbins  is  the  Secretary  of  the  Artists'  Fund  Society,  and  the  Treas- 
urer of  the  American  Water-Color  Society.  To  the  exhibition  of  the  latter 
organization  in  1878  he  contributed  a  picturesque  old  New  England  home- 
stead at  Simsbury,  Connecticut,  and  to  the  National  Academy  Exhibition  in 
the  same  year  a  large  picture  of  "  Harbor  Islands,  Lake  George."  These 
works  represented  him  also  in  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1878,  soon  after  his 
election  as  an  Academician.     He  is  a  member  of  the  New  York  Etching  Club. 


THE      INDIAN     CHIEF. 
From  a  Painting  by  Joseph  Rusting  Meeker. 


p.  18B. 


JOSEPH    RUSLING    MEEKER.  135 

Messrs.  W.  S.  G.  Baker,  William  Keyser,  and  George  H.  Small,  of  Baltimore, 
own  some  of  his  important  landscapes.  The  gallery  of  Mrs.  Attwood,  <>f 
Pougbkeepsie,  contains  bis  "  Roadside  Elms."  Messrs.  George  D.  Pbelps, 
Jacob  Vanderpoel,  D.  C.  Blodgett,  and  F.  N.  Otis,  of  New  York,  have  boughl 
other  of  his  paintings.  The  "  Aiguille  du  Midi,"  once  in  the  Goupil  Gallery, 
is  now  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  Trevor,  of  Irvington,  New  York,  and  the  "Blue 
Hills  of  Jamaica"  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  Sheldon,  of  Philadelphia.  His 
works  are  spirited  and  refined,  his  artistic  sympathies  are  in  a  line  with  those 
of  Mr.  F.  E.  Church  and  Mr.  Sauford  Gilford,  and  his  style  is  descriptive  and 
original. 


The  literary  tastes  of  Mr.  Joseph  Rusleng  Meeker,  of  St.  Louis,  are  not 
less  marked  than  his  artistic  tastes.  He  is  a  writer  for  the  magazines  as  wTell 
as  a  landscape-painter.  In  the  January-February  number  of  The  Western  for 
1878,  a  periodical  published  in  that  city,  is  an  article  by  him,  entitled  "  Some 
Account  of  the  Old  and  New  Masters ; "  and  in  the  December  number  of  the 
same  review  for  1877  a  paper  on  Turner,  from  which  is  taken  the  following 
extract  of  a  criticism  on  that  artist's  picture  "  Heidelberg,"  which  possesses  au- 
tobiographic interest :  "  Search  the  whole  composition  through,  and  you  will 
not  find  a  square  inch  that  is  not  filled  with  infinite  detail.  Passing  to  other 
qualifications  which  belong  to  this  grand  composition,  we  note  one  which  de- 
termines the  merit  of  the  whole  work — which  involves  the  harmony  of  lines, 
the  contrast  of  light  and  shade,  and  the  entire  value  of  the  tones.  This  is 
the  quality  of  unity,  which  dissipates  all  crudeness,  causes  an  harmonious  jux- 
taposition of  light  and  dark,  and  compels  all  the  lines  in  the  picture  to  flow  so 
gently  one  into  another  that  the  eye  shall  receive  no  offense.  When  there  is 
perfect  unity  the  composition  is  perfect.  Each  object  assumes  its  proper  rela- 
tive position  ;  the  colors  are  disposed  so  as  to  produce  the  utmost  harmony ; 
and  the  major  and  minor  lights  and  shades  are  so  arranged  that  the  tone  of 
the  work  shall  give  a  satisfying  sense  of  completeness — a  high  light  here,  a 
lesser  light  there,  and  so  on  through  the  scale,  repeating  a  like  gradation  in 
the  darks,  and  at  last  carrying  the  eye  by  deft  combinations  of  line  and  tone 

to  the  final  element  of  repose  beyond  all.     Another  quality  will  be  discovered 
33 


13(3  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

which  belongs  to  all  great  art,  and  is  quite  as  essential  to  the  completeness  of 
a  picture  as  either  of  the  others  named.  This  may  he  termed  the  quality  of 
mystery.  Understanding  the  value  of  this,  the  artist  vaguely  defines  such  of 
his  outlines  as  would  offend  the  eye  by  their  boldness,  and  by  the  use  of  mists 
and  nimbus  clouds  lending  obscurity  to  portions  of  the  picture  suggestive  of 
something  more  than  can  be  seen,  making  us  wish  to  explore  the  half-hidden 
vistas.  In  this  element  of  mystery  lies  much  of  the.  poetic  sentiment  of  a 
work  of  art,  and  no  work  can  really  and  truly  inspire  the  soul  with  lofty  aspi- 
rations unless  it  possesses  this  quality. 

"  We  now  come  to  an  element  which  is  perhaps  the  most  important  in  a 
composition — the  element  of  repose,  where  the  eye  finally  rests,  quietly  and 
peacefully,  in  refreshing  indolence,  after  scanning  the  multitudinous  detail. 
This  valuable  element  is  introduced  or  heightened  by  a  sun-burst,  a  bank  of 
light  clouds,  or  a  rainbow,  the  eye  always  naturally  seeking  this  one  brill- 
iant spot.  A  picture  generally  contains  two  or  three  points  of  repose,  though 
the  final  one  in  the  sky  must  be  the  most  prominent  and  attractive.  In  the 
'Heidelberg'  we  find  one  quite  important  point  of  repose  in  the  bridge  that 
crosses  the  Neekar,  and  another  lesser  one  resting  in  the  castle  on  the  hill-side. 
But  the  final  one  which  the  eye  seeks  with  the  greatest  delight  is  in  the  rain- 
bow which  rests  on  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  loses  itself  in  the  darkness 
of  clouds  at  the  top  of  the  picture.  I  have  seen  several  hundreds  of  engrav- 
ings after  designs  by  Turner,  and  I  might  almost  assert  that  one-half  of  them 
had  rainbows  in  the  sky,  which  were  put  there  by  the  artist  for  no  other  pur- 
pose than  to  gain  that  charming  element  of  repose. 

"  Turner's  first  studies  were  made  among  the  ruins  of  old  castles  and 
abbeys  in  England,  and  thus  there  became  deeply  implanted  in  his  nature  a 
love  for  the  picturesque.  So  strong  did  this  passion  become,  that  he  was  for- 
ever introducing  into  his  pictures  rugged  and  broken  forms,  which  he  used  as 
contrasting  lines  to  the  elements  of  repose.  It  is  impossible  to  view  any 
dilapidated,  moss-grown  structure,  whether  of  wood  or  stone,  without  a  feeling 
of  sadness  and  melancholy  stealing  over  the  heart ;  it  is  natural,  and  belongs 
to  all  ruin  and  decay.  That  is  why  Ruskin,  seeing  Turner's  works  through 
Ins  own  imagination,  discovers  a  vein  of  sadness  in  them  which  did  not  actu 
ally  exist.      Analyze  the  faces  of  the  two  men:  you  will  find  the  former  full  of 


<4-H^fe&i*5S» 


NEAR     THE     ATCHAFALAYA. 
From  a   Painting  by  Joseph  Rusling  Meckel. 


p.  187. 


JOSEPH    RUSLINQ     MEEKER.  \:-- 

n  sorrowful  longing  for  something  unattainable,  while  the  latter  contains  an 
expression  of  general  good-nature  and  an  entire  freedom  from  anything  like 
woe.  It  is  certain  that  Turner  painted  with  the  childlike,  unpretending  sim- 
plicity of  all  earnest  men,  and  did  what  he  loved  and  felt,  and  sought  what 
his  heart  naturally  sought.  And  so  every  artist  ought  to  paint  what  he  him- 
self loves,  not  what  others  have  loved.  If  his  mind  he  pure  and  sweetly 
toned,  what  he  loves  Avill  be  lovely.  All  true  art  is  the  production  of  the  age, 
the  country,  and  the  climate.  Neither  the  antique  nor  religious  art  can  ever 
be  reproduced.  '  The  times  are  out  of  joint '  for  any  revival  of  what  the  great 
masters  did.  In  the  palmy  days  of  Greek  art  the  imitators  all  failed,  and 
even  the  schools  of  religious  art  dwindled  into  insignificance  because  their  fol- 
lowers had  not  strength  enough  to  be  original.  There  is  a  future  for  art  yet. 
Give  America  another  hundred  years,  and  genius,  born  and  educated  on  her 
own  soil,  will  outstrip  the  past.  But  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  there  is 
no  high  art  produced  in  these  modern  times.  However  humble  the  theme,  the 
touch  of  genius  ennobles  it,  and  we  are  forced  to  gaze  in  astonishment,  some- 
times, at  the  power  exhibited  in  subjects  very  far  removed  from  the  antique." 
Mi'.  Meeker  was  born  on  the  21st  day  of  April,  1827,  in  Newark,  New 
Jersey.  His  paternal  ancestors  came  from  Belgium  in  1640  to  Norwalk,  Con- 
necticut. His  maternal  grandfather,  an  artist  of  some  pretensions,  made  a 
sketch  of  Washington  on  horseback  in  1775.  His  mother's  brother,  Andrew 
Joliue,  was  also  an  artist.  The  charming  pastoral  scenery  of  Cayuga  and  the 
surrounding  counties,  where  Mr.  Meeker  spent  his  boyhood,  impressed  itself 
on  his  mind,  and  at  the  age  of  eight  years  he  was  dabbling  in  water-colors  and 
stealing  time  during  school-hours  to  draw  on  his  slate,  receiving  many  repri- 
mands therefor  from  his  teacher.  At  about  sixteen  he  and  Mr.  George  L. 
Clough  occupied  a  studio  together,  and  struggled  at  once  to  gaiu  bread  and 
knowledge.  Thomas  J.  Kennedy,  a  decorator,  was  of  great  assistance  to  him 
in  those  days,  lending  him  colors,  and  giving  him  much  good  advice.  In  1845 
he  found  himself  in  New  York,  busily  drawing  from  casts  in  order  to  gain  a 
scholarship  in  the  Academy  of  Design.  His  efforts  were  successful.  His  first 
commission  was  from  Mr.  Hoyt,  a  teacher  whose  kindness  he  holds  in  remem- 
brance. After  living  three  years  in  New  York  he  became  discouraged,  and  re- 
solved to  try  the  West.     The  autumn  of  1849  found  him  in  Buffalo,  where  W. 


138  A  M  E  u  IC  AN    PAIN  TER  S. 

H.  Beard  and  Thomas  Le  Clear  were  then  painting.  Here  he  found  some  ex- 
cellent friends,  his  pictures  went  up  to  paying  prices,  and  the  American  Art 
Union  purchased  them  occasionally.  In  1852  he  removed  to  Louisville,  and 
remained  there  seven  years.  In  1859  he  pitched  his  tent  in  St.  Louis,  where 
the  Western  Academy  of  Art  had  been  formed,  and  the  outlook  for  artists 
was  inviting.  The  war  of  the  rebellion  came,  and  he  entered  the  United 
States  Navy  as  a  paymaster.  It  was  during  the  time  he  was  on  a  gunboat  in 
the  Mississippi  squadron  that  he  had  opportunities  for  making  those  sketches 
of  Southern  swamp  and  bayou  scenery  which  have  made  his  name  well  known 
in  the  Southwest. 

Since  the  war  Mr.  Meeker  has  exhibited  at  the  Academy  of  Design  in  New 
York,  at  the  Boston  Art  Club,  and  in  various  other  cities  East  and  West.  Some 
of  his  pictures  have  been  engraved.  He  was  active  in  establishing  the  St. 
Louis  Art  Society,  the  St.  Louis  Sketch  Club,  and  the  St.  Louis  Academy  of 
Fine  Arts.     He  has  been  thrice  elected  President  of  the  Art  Society. 

Mr.  Meeker's  most  popular  pictures  are  his  Southern  swamps,  with  cy- 
presses and  hanging  moss.  Many  of  his  landscapes,  especially  those  concerned 
with  the  scenery  of  the  Osage,  Gasconade,  and  Missouri  Rivers,  betray  the  in- 
fluence of  Mr.  A.  B.  Durand,  who  was  President  of  the  National  Academy 
when  Mr.  Meeker  was  a  student  in  New  York,  and  in  most  of  them  are  seen 
sycamores. 


Benjamin  F.  Reinhaet,  portrait,  genre,  and  historical  painter,  was  born 
near  Waynesburg,  in  Western  Pennsylvania,  on  the  29th  of  August,  1829. 
At  the  age  of  fourteen,  and  with  scarcely  any  previous  instruction,  he  began 
to  exercise  himself  in  portraiture,  succeeding  so  well  that  by  the  time  he  was 
twenty-one  years  old  he  had  laid  up  money  enough  to  obtain  the  immediate 
goal  of  his  desires,  namely,  a  visit  to  Europe.  For  three  years  thereafter  he 
studied  art  in  the  schools  of  Diisseldorf,  Paris,  and  Rome.  On  returning  to 
America  he  resumed  the  practice  of  portrait-painting,  and  was  invited  into 
service  by  the  friends  of  Pesident  Buchanan,  Vice-President  Dallas,  Judge 
Coulter,  and  many  other  distinguished  men,  both  in  the  North  and  South, 
including  oilicers  in  the  Confederate  army  and  navy.     In  1861  he  went  to 


KATRINA     VAN     TASSEL. 
From  a  Painting  by  Benjamin  F.  Reinhart. 


p.  138. 


BENJAMIN    F.     REIXIIAHT.  ,;m, 

England  again,  and  staid  seven  years  in  and  near  London.  When  he  found 
himself  in  New  York,  he  received  orders  from  the  Geographical  Society  for  a 
portrait  of  Judge  Charles  P.  Daly,  and  from  the  Bar  Association  for  a  portrait 
of  Charles  O'Conor.  For  the  last  fifteen  years  he  has  traveled  extensively  in 
this  country,  and  has  transferred  to  canvas  the  verisimilitudes  of  hundreds  of 
persons,  besides  devoting  a  good  deal  of  time  to  the  delineation  of  genre  and 
historical  subjects. 

One  of  these  subjects  is  "  Katrina  Van  Tassel,"  which  we  have  engraved. 
It  is  painted  entirely  with  black  and  white  pigments,  and  is  a  sweet,  simple, 
and  piquant  representation.  Katrina  looks  as  Washington  Irving  describes 
her,  "  a  blooming  lass  of  fresh  eighteen,  plump  as  a  partridge,  ripe  and  melt- 
ing and  rosy-cheeked  as  one  of  her  father's  peaches,  and  universally  famed  not 
merely  for  her  beauty,  but  her  vast  expectations  ;  she  was  withal  a  little  of  a 
coquette,  as  might  be  perceived  even  in  her  dress,  which  was  a  mixture  of 
ancient  and  modern  fashions,  as  most  suited  to  set  off  her  charms  ;  she  wore 
the  ornaments  of  pure  yellow  gold  which  her  great-great-grandmother  had 
brought  over  from  Saardam,  the  tempting  stomacher  of  the  olden  time,  and 
withal  a  provokingly  short  petticoat  to  display  the  prettiest  foot  and  ankle  in 
the  country  round."  Beyond  the  open  window  is  seen  Ichabod  Crane,  her 
suitor,  who,  as  he  approaches  the  house,  lifts  his  hat  gracefully  to  her  father 
sitting  on  the  porch.  Her  back  is  turned  to  him,  but  she  knows  that  he  is 
coming.  The  scene  is  vividly  compressed  and  presented  ;  the  young  girl  is  an 
admirable  piece  of  portrayal,  and  both  the  composition  and  the  treatment  are 
skillful  and  pleasing,  the  painting  being  especially  solid  and  sound,  and  the 
technical  ability  in  general  of  no  mean  order. 

Mr.  Beinhart  has  been  unusually  successful  with  some  of  his  genre  pictures. 
His  "  Morning  Greeting,"  tor  example,  a  little  girl  lying  in  bed  under  the 
counterpane,  and  receiving  the  salutations  of  a  big  dog  who  stands  on  his 
hind-legs  beside  her,  is  known  very  widely.  Two  hundred  thousand  chromos 
after  it  are  said  to  have  been  sold.  His  "  Spring  "  and  "  Autumn  "  are  simi- 
larly charming  works;  and  the  same  is  true  of  his  "Nymphs  of  the  Wood" 
and  his  "  Out  among  the  Daisies."  One  of  his  latest  canvases  is  "  Pocahon- 
tas," at  the  head  of  a  file  of  Indian  maidens  approaching  through  the  forest 
directly  toward  the  spectator.     The  figures  are  vigorously  drawn,  in  full  relief, 


34 


140 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


and  winning  in  expression,  Pocahontas  herself  being  the  ripest  and  fairest  of 
them  all.  Mr.  Fletcher  Harper,  Jr.,  is  the  owner  of  Mr.  Reinhart's  fine  char- 
acter-study called  ''  Evangeline,"  which,  like  the  "  Katrina  Van  Tassel,"  is 
painted  entirely  in  black  and  white,  and  exemplifies  his  best  traits.  "  If  you 
have  neither  taste,  imagination,  nor  much  technical  skill,"  said  an  English 
lecturer  recently  to  a  class  of  art-students,  "  it  will  be  well  for  you  to  turn 
your  attention  to  portraiture  or  to  landscape-painting,  for  in  neither  of  these 
departments  are  those  equalities  required."  In  this  country  landscape-painting 
can  defend  itself.  It  is  the  one  domain  in  which  American  art  has  become 
celebrated  throughout  Christendom.  But  portraiture  is  not  so  well  off,  in 
spite  of  the  indisputable  triumphs  of  Daniel  Huntington,  George  A.  Baker, 
Thomas  Le  Clear,  Eastman  Johnson,  and  young  artists  so  masterly  as  Julian 
A.  Weir,  Walter  Shirlaw,  and  Wyatt  Eaton.  The  limits  of  the  present  essay 
do  not  permit  justice  to  be  done  to  these  and  other  later  and  most  promising 
painters,  to  Frederick  Dielman,  for  instance,  to  William  Sartain,  to  Charles 
S.  Pearce,  to  William  H.  Low,  to  W.  H.  Macy,  and  to  John  D.  Sargeaut,  some 
of  whom  are  already  in  the  front  rank  of  our  artists.  What  we  were  say- 
ing, however,  is  that  portraiture  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  has  not  yet  won 
for  itself  the  name  that  landscape-painting  has  ;  and  there  is  some  propriety  in 
the  English  lecturer's  advice,  so  far  as  this  pertains  to  the  portraits  that  our 
native  school  has  produced.  Many  of  them  certainly  do  not  display  a  great 
deal  of  taste,  imagination,  or  technical  skill ;  but  Mr.  Reinhart's  works  are  not 
among  these.  His  perception  of  character  is  facile  and  penetrating  ;  his  exe- 
cution is  straightforward  and  competent.  The  portrait  of  Alfred  Tennyson, 
which  he  painted  in  England  from  life,  is  an  exceedingly  interesting  perform- 
ance. It  hangs  in  his  studio,  and  reflects  credit  upon  the  genuine  artistic  gifts 
of  the  draughtsman  and  the  colorist.  The  representation  of  a  daughter  of 
one  of  our  most  distinguished  generals,  which  Mi*.  Reinhart  has  lately  pro- 
duced— a  life-size,  three-quarter  canvas — is  a  striking  and  pleasing  delineation ; 
and  if  all  his  delineations  are  not  so  happy  as  are  these  two,  a  similar  remark 
may  be  made  concerning  the  works  of  many  of  his  peers.  Mr.  Reinhart  some- 
times, it  must  he  admitted,  seems  careless  of  his  reputation.  He  has  painted 
so  many  portraits  in  so  many  places  and  at  so  many  periods  of  his  growth, 
that  occasionally  the  desire  of  excelling  is  not  conspicuously  before  the  spec- 


BY      THE      SAD      SEA-WAVES. 
From  a  Painting  by  John   G.   Blown. 


p.  141. 


JOHN     0.     BRO  WN.  14 ] 

tator  of  theni,  and  was  not  perhaps  a  vital  force  in  his  own  mind.  In  parts 
of  the  country  where  the  best  art  is  not  much  known,  and  where  the  price 
paid  for  a  verisimilitude  in  oil  is  a  matter  of  tradition  rather  than  of  special 
worth,  the  temptation  is  strong  to  paint  cpiickly  and  superficially.  One  does 
not  trouble  himself  to  cast  his  pearls  before  a  low  species  of  animal,  even  if 
he  has  plenty  of  the  former  in  his  possession.  But  of  Mr.  Reinhart's  "  Alfred 
Tennyson"  the  critic  can  speak  without  reluctance  or  regret.  It  is  a  portrait 
forcible  and  rich  in  tone  and  color,  expressive  in  calmness  and  reserve,  and 
truly  refined  and  honest  in  treatment.  It  recalls  the  poet  at  once  to  those 
who  have  seen  him,  or  a  photograph  of  him,  and  at  the  same  time  contains 
much  more  than  the  best  efforts  of  the  camera-ohscura. 


"  Art,"  said  Mr.  John  G.  Brown,  while  talking  with  the  writer,  "  should 
express  contemporaneous  truth,  which  will  be  of  interest  to  posterity.  I  want 
people  a  hundred  years  from  now  to  know  how  the  children  that  I  paint 
looked,  just  as  we  know  how  the  people  of  Wilkie's  and  Hogarth's  times 
looked.  I  paint  what  I  see,  and  in  my  own  way.  With  Munich  art  I  have  no 
sympathy  ;  you  can't  go  out  to  Nature  and  find  the  things  the  Munich  artists 
produce.  And  this  is  the  test  of  the  merit  of  a  picture.  Suppose  that  I 
wished  to  paint  a  horseshoeing  scene :  I  would  go  where  they  shoe  horses ; 
I  would  study  the  performance  on  the  spot,  and  endeavor  to  reproduce  it 
faithfully.  I  desired  to  paint  some  Grand  Menan  fishermen,  and  I  went  to 
Grand  Menan  and  painted  them  from  the  life — their  fish,  their  clothes,  their 
boats.  In  other  words,  I  did  precisely  what  a  good  newspaper  reporter  would 
have  done,  and  the  result  differed  only  in  the  means  by  which  it  had  been 
obtained.  Of  course,  I  embellished  my  fishermen  :  I  did  not  copy  them  as 
they  stood  before  me  as  models.  I  put  J.  G.  Brown  into  them.  And  a  good 
reporter  in  like  manner  would  have  put  himself  into  them. 

"  Half  of  the  foreign  stuff  that  is  sold  here  I  feel  is  a  swindle  on  the 
public.  The  works  of  Jules  Breton,  L.  Knaus,  Oswald  Achenbach,  Meisso- 
nier,  and  Gerome,  are  admirable,  to  be  sure  ;  but  I  can't  think  anything  of 
Corot,  I  can't  understand  him  ;  I  can't  understand  how  an  intelligent  being 
can  paint  clearly  the  windows  in  a  house  across  a  river,  and  then  make  the 


142  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

trees  on  this  side  of  the  same  river  look  like  smoke.  The  trees  are  nearer 
than  the  windows,  but  they  are  all  blurred  and  obscured.  Corot's  '  Orphee ' 
does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  even  an  idealization  of  Nature.  Diaz,  while  not 
true  in  his  facts,  is  nevertheless  beautiful  in  color.  But  I  can't  see  anything 
in  a  Corot. 

"  Morality  in  art  ?  Of  course  there  is.  A  picture  can  and  should  teach, 
can  and  should  exert  a  moral  influence.  Carl  Hlibner's  '  Poacher ' — a  man 
shot  simply  because  he  stole  a  hare — revolutionized  the  game-laws.  It  made 
their  cruelty  and  injustice  so  obvious  that  they  were  wiped  otit.  Millais's 
'  Huguenot  Lovers ' — you  can't  look  at  the  picture  without  being  better  for  it, 
can  you  ?  Landseer's  '  Chief  Mourner ' — a  dog  resting  his  head  on  his  master's 
coffin— is  finer,  more  pathetic,  than  anything  that  ever  was  written.  French 
views  on  this  subject,  I  know,  are  altogether  of  another  sort ;  but  a  French- 
man's education  and  training  are  different  from  an  Anglo-Saxon's.  Neverthe- 
less, there  is  a  moral  in  everything — in  the  way  a  man  looks  and  talks,  and 
his  work  ought  to  have  this  in  it,  and  will  have  it  in  it.  Detaille  and  Bou- 
guereau  I  admire  :  every  figure  in  one  of  Detaille's  paintings  is  a  bit  of  char- 
acter ;  if  he  introduces  a  piece  of  landscape,  it  is  just  as  good  as  any  one  can 
paint  anywhere.  In  the  catalogue  of  the  recent  Cottier  collection  of  pictures, 
I  marked  at  least  fifty  canvases  that  had  been  painted  right  from  Nature,  and 
were  fresh  and  unconventional.  And  I  don't  condemn  an  artist  because  he 
belongs  to  a  particular  school.  If  you  look  sharp,  you  will  find  good  in  any 
work  of  an  earnest  man.  Beauty  in  tone,  in  harmony,  we  can  all  recognize  at 
a  glance,  but  I  can't  see  where  Corot's  '  Orphee '  has  it,  although  the  picture  is 
valued  at  ten  thousand  dollars.  How  is  it  ?  Am  I  mistaken  ?  I  must  be. 
Yet  my  eyes  are  always  freshened  by  Nature  every  twenty-four  hours,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  should  see  something  in  these  men  if  they  have  it  in  them. 
I  can  show  you  in  Whittredge's  studio  some  of  the  most  beautiful  studies  ever 
made — studies  that  will  compare  favorably  with  the  work  of  any  landscape- 
painter  in  the  world — studies  of  American  scenery  seen  with  his  own  eyes. 
Why  don't  we  worship  Whittredge  instead  of  worshiping  foreigners  ? 

"  People  like  to  be  gagged  a  good  deal — perhaps  that  is  the  reason — and 
the  picture-dealers  are  the  ones  that  do  it.  They  have  made  it  fashionable  to 
buy  European  works.     They  have  caused  it  to  come  about  that  Americans 


CLIFFS     OF     IRONBOUND     ISLAND,     MAINE. 

From  a  Painting  by  Alfred  Thompson  Bricher. 


p.  148. 


joiin    a .    rh  o  un. 


143 


who  profess  to  enjoy  the  sight  of  American  pictures  are  considered  to  be  '  off 
color;'  so  that,  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  last  ten  years  in  this  country, 
there  cannot  be  anything  more  degrading  than  to  be  an  American  artist. 
Why,  if  Whittredge  had  gone  to  England  and  lived  there,  he  would  have 
made  a  fortune!  That  is  what  Boughton  did.  Some  of  his  beautiful  little 
winter-scenes,  painted  while  he  was  in  New  York,  brought  here  only  fifty  dol- 
lars. They  are  selling  in  England  for  five  hundred.  He  never  would  have 
gotten  thirty  per  cent,  of  his  present  prices  if  he  had  staid  here.  Winslow 
Homer,  one  of  our  truest  and  most  accomplished  artists,  has  never  been  ap- 
preciated in  this  country ;  but  he  carries  things  in  his  pictures  a  thousand 
miles  farther  than  Corot  ever  did. 

"  The  fact  is,  that  an  artist  should  go  direct  to  Nature  and  use  his  own 
eyes — or  his  glasses,  if  he  has  to  wear  them.  I  teach  my  pupils  to  see — that 
is  all.  First,  I  set  them  to  drawing  things  that  are  still,  that  don't  change ; 
in  this  way  they  learn  textures.  Meanwhile,  I  let  them  paint  a  little  in  order 
to  rest  themselves  till  they  draw  again.  Beginning  early,  they  get  to  handle 
the  brash  as  easily  as  they  breathe.  Next,  I  put  before  them  flowers  and 
fruit,  things  that  do  change ;  then  I  take  them  out-doors  to  Nature,  and  let 
them  draw  objects  that  are  changing  every  moment  in  the  sunshine — and  that 
is  all  there  is  in  teaching  art.  Geometry  and  mathematics  the  pupils  can 
learn  at  home  at  night.  Guy  is  one  of  the  best  painters  in  his  knowledge  of 
these  branches,  which  are  indispensable  in  the  delineation  of  perspective.  I 
never  let  a  pupil  paint  from  one  of  my  pictures ;  no  one  of  my  pupils  ever 
copied  a  picture  of  mine,  or  ever  desired  to.  Hence  their  paintings  have 
individuality;  they  paint  like  themselves,  not  like  Piloty  or  any  other  man. 
Technique  I  don't  teach ;  it  comes  by  practice.  Here  are  two  studies  by  Mr. 
Gilbert  Gaul,  which  are  equal  to  anything  they  bring  over  from  Europe.  I 
taught  him  simply  how  to  see,  not  how  to  put  on  the  paint." 

Mr.  J.  G.  Brown  was  born  in  Durham,  in  the  north  of  England,  on  the 
11th  of  November,  1831.  His  earliest  pictures  were  portraits  of  his  mother 
and  a  little  sister,  and  were  painted  when  he  was  nine  years  old.  When  in 
his  teens  he  had  a  strong  prejudice  against  schools  of  art ;  but  having  seen  in 
his  eighteenth  year  how  superior  to  his  own  were  some  drawings  made  by  a 
comrade  who  had  attended  school,  he  entered  the  government  art-school  at 

35 


144  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  then  under  the  direction  of  W.  B.  Scott,  "God  bless  him, 
the  fine  old  fellow  ! "  For  one  year  he  studied  in  the  Edinburgh  Royal  Acad- 
emy, and  received  a  prize  in  1853.  He  went  to  London,  painted  a  few  por- 
traits, in  the  autumn  of  that  year  came  to  this  country,  and  in  1856  opened  a 
studio  in  Atlantic  Street,  Brooklyn,  where  he  resumed  his  portrait-painting. 
In  1860  he  took  Mr.  Boughton's  studio  in  the  Tenth  Street  Building,  New 
York  City.  He  was  elected  an  Academician  in  1863,  and  has  been  a  Vice- 
President  of  the  Academy  and  the  chairman  of  its  school  committee.  He  is 
now  a  Vice-President  of  the  Artists'  Fund  Society,  and  a  member  of  the 
Academy  hanging  committee. 

Mr.  Robert  Gordon,  of  New  York  City,  owns  Mr.  Brown's  "  Curling  in 
Central  Park ; "  Mr.  J.  J.  Stuart,  of  New  York  City,  his  "  Marching  along," 
children  playing  soldier  and  crossing  a  rustic  bridge  ;  Mr.  Denis  Gale,  of  Phil- 
adelphia, "The  Passing  Show,"  boys  standing  on  the  curbstones  and  watching 
a  traveling  circus,  each  face  being  a  study  of  character ;  Mr.  Hurlburt,  of 
Twentieth  Street,  New  York  City,  his  "  St.  Patrick's  Day,"  a  little  girl  pinning 
a  green  rosette  on  the  lapel  of  a  boot-black's  coat ;  Mr.  Fairbanks,  of  New 
York  City,  his  "  Hiding  in  the  Old  Oak,"  three  children  in  the  hollow  of  a 
tree,  which  the  sunshine  warms  ;  and  Mr.  Guild,  of  Boston,  his  "  Little  Stroll- 
ers," young  Italian  musicians  with  harp  and  violin  in  the  snowy  street.  All 
Mr.  Brown's  pictures  are  stories.  Concerning  "The  Passing  Show,"  which  was 
in  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1878,  the  London  Athenceum  said,  "The  painter 
has  set  himself  to  portray  a  bit  of  genuine  Nature  in  a  careful,  natural  man- 
ner, and  he  has  succeeded  in  calling  forth  corresponding  sympathies  in  the 
spectator."  "  By  the  Sad  Sea- Waves,"  which  we  have  engraved,  was  exhib- 
ited at  the  National  Academy  Exhibition  of  1878. 


Mr.  Alfred  Thompson  Bricher  was  born  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hamp- 
shire, in  1837,  and  during  his  boyhood  he  lived  in  Newburyport,  Massachu- 
setts. He  was  a  clerk  in  a  dry-goods  house  in  Boston.  At  the  age  of  twenty- 
one  lie  .iliandoned  the  counting-room  for  the  studio.  He  made  sketches  on 
the  coast  of  Maine,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  Newburyport.  In  1868  he 
removed  to  New  York  City,  where  he  has  a  studio  in  the  Young  Men's  Chris- 


THE     MILL-STREAM. 

From  a  Painting  by  Alfred   Thompson  B>i<  her. 


p,  146. 


ALFRED     THOMPSON    BRIGHT  EH.  \  \ ;, 

tian  Association  Building.  Tlie  most  of  his  pictures  are  marines  in  water- 
colors  and  in  oils.  To  the  annual  exhibitions  of  the  American  Water-Color 
Society  he  usually  sends  several  large  and  important  drawings.  He  is  a  lead- 
ing member  of  that  organization.  He  is  fond  of  depicting  the  indolent  and 
easy  swaying  of  the  summer  sea  in  the  Grand  Menan  region;  the,  rocks  ami 
weeds  along  the  coast ;  the  sunlit  stretch  of  waters,  necked  with  distant  white 
sails.  "  His  first  sketching  season,"  says  a  writer  in  Appletons'  Art  Journal 
for  November,  1875,  "was  passed  on  the  island  of  Mount  Desert,  coast  of 
Maine,  and  while  there  he  fell  in  company  with  William  Stanley  Haseltine 
and  the  late  Charles  Temple  Dix.  These  artists  were  men  of  genius,  and 
young  Bricher  derived  great  benefit  from  their  kindly  advice.  After  the  sea- 
son spent  at  Mount  Desert,  Mr.  Bricher  turned  his  attention  to  the  bays, 
creeks,  and  pastoral  scenery,  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  early  home  at  New- 
buryport,  and  many  of  his  most  successful  pictures  have  been  painted  from 
sketches  made  there.  He  pursued  his  profession  with  considerable  success  in 
Boston,  but,  with  a  desire  to  seek  a  wider  field  for  the  development  of  his 
genius,  he  removed  to  New  York.  One  of  his  first  pictures  in  the  latter  city 
was  in  the  exhibition  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design  in  that  year.  It- 
was  a  study  '  On  a  Mill-Stream  at  Newburyport,'  and  attracted  considerable 
attention,  owing  to  the  beauty  of  the  subject  and  the  fresh  and  truthful  style 
of  its  treatment.  From  that  year  he  became  a  constant  contributor  to  the 
Academy  exhibitions,  but  from  the  character  of  his  work  he  is,  perhaps,  bet- 
ter known  as  a  marine  painter  than  a  painter  of  landscapes.  In  1873  he 
became  interested  iu  water-color  painting,  and  in  that  year  contributed  his 
first  drawing  to  the  exhibition  of  the  American  Society  of  Painters  in  Water- 
Colors,  and  was  at  once  elected  a  member  of  the  institution.  His  water-color 
works  are  noticeable  for  their  force  and  brilliancy  of  tone.  In  the  delinea- 
tion of  '  Ironbound  Island,  Mount  Desert,  Coast  of  Maine,'  Mr.  Bricher  has 
softened  the  inhospitable  character  of  the  place  by  the  introduction  of  a  brill- 
iant sunset  effect,  which  lights  up  the  distant  sea,  and  shimmers  upon  the 
breaking  surf  in  the  foreground  with  great  power  and  beauty.  The  sky,  with 
its  cloucl-curauli,  is  particularly  pleasing,  and  exemplifies  in  a  marked  degree 
the  poetical  power  of  his  pencil.  '  The  Mill-Stream  at  Newburyport '  is  re- 
markable for  its  beauty,  and  the  subdued  yet  brilliant  way  in  which   it  is 


146  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

treated.  It  is  a  midsummer  scene,  as  the  boating-party  on  the  left  and  the 
rich  and  luxuriant  foliage  of  the  overhanging  trees  evince ;  and  the  broken 
forms  of  the  clouds  and  the  shadows  upon  the  water  lend  to  the  view  an 
idyllic  charm.1" 

Mr.  Albert  Bierstadt,  one  of  the  most  widely-known  American  painters, 
was  born  in  Diisseldorf,  Germany,  in  1829,  and  came  to  this  country  in  1831. 
In  early  manhood  he  returned  to  Europe  and  studied  in  the  city  of  his  birth 
and  also  in  Rome.  When  General  Lander's  expedition  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains was  organized,  he  became  a  member  of  it,  and  made  his  reputation  as  an 
artist  by  painting  some  of  the  striking  scenery  of  that  region.  His  celebrated 
"  Rocky  Mountains  "  was  displayed  in  public  for  the  first  time  at  the  great 
Fair  of  the  Sanitary  Commission  in  the  city  of  New  York  in  1863,  where  it 
and  Mr.  Church's  "  Heart  of  the  Andes  "  were  the  principal  pictorial  attrac- 
tions. In  1878  Mr.  Bierstadt  left  America  for  an  extended  journey  in  Europe 
and  the  East. 

His  "  Mount  Corcoran,  Sierra  Nevada,"  recently  purchased  by  the  trustees 
of  the  Corcoran  Gallery  in  Washington,  and  engraved  for  this  volume,  has 
been  described  as  follows  :  "  The  peak  rises  to  a  height  of  fourteen  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  eighty-seven  feet,  and  is  about  five  miles  distant  from  the 
little  lake  fed  by  the  snows  of  the  mountain-range.  The  picture  is  considered 
to  be  a  happy  combination  of  the  best  points  in  Mr.  Bierstadt's  style,  and, 
while  treated  with  a  bold,  broad  effect,  abounds  in  finished  truthfulness  of 
form  and  color.  The  engraving  well  conveys  the  impression  made  by  the 
drawing,  but  none  of  the  effect  of  the  fine  local  and  aerial  color  in  the  rolling 
mass  of  clouds,  the  gigantic  trees,  the  exquisite  green  depths  of  the  water  into 
which  recede  the  submerged  rocks  and  trees  of  the  foreground,  and  the  yellow 
curve  of  the  shore  dotted  with  the  scarlet  dwarf  willows.  From  the  sombre 
<kirts  of  the  storm-clouds  swooping  down  the  mountain-gorge  leaps  a  glitter- 
in-'  cascade  that  is  mirrored  by  a  trail  of  light  in  the  lake.  The  sentiment  of 
wild,  solemn  solitude,  blended  with  a  beauty  not  too  intrusive,  is  heightened 
by  the  figure  of  a  black  bear  crossing  the  beach  for  a  bath  or  a  drink.  The 
picture  is  five  feet  by  eight,  and  occupies  a  prominent  position  in  the  main 
gallery." 


lllllliniUllllllllllillMMili 

iHRIliiliiil 
■'■:  111 


0 

Si 

< 

■^J 

J 

£ 

en 

S° 

a 

"^3 

I 

< 

h 

"3 

a 

< 

1 

K 

z 

ALBERT    BIERSTADT.  147 

One  of  Mr.  Bierstadt's  earliest  works  is  a  street-scene  in  Rome,  painted  in 
1853,  and  banging  in  tlie  Boston  Art  Museum.  It  is  rich  in  color,  skillful  in 
composition,  and  simple  in  design.  Its  gi-eeting  surprises  the  visitor,  who  has 
known  Mr.  Bierstadt  through  his  great  Western  landscapes  only.  But  these 
landscapes  it  is  that  have  made  the  artist's  reputation.  Especially  in  England 
have  they  been  praised  and  prized,  and  for  the  reason,  perhaps,  among  others, 
that  they  described  to  a  people,  fonder  than  all  others  of  travel  and  books 
of  travel,  the  novel  and  majestic  beauty  of  our  vast  Territories.  When  the 
"  Storm  in  the  Bocky  Mountains  "  was  on  exhibition  in  London,  a  leading 
review  of  that  city  was  enthusiastic  in  the  recital  of  its  merits.  "  We  are 
somewhere,"  it  said,  "  in  the  heart  of  the  Bocky  Mountains,  at  a  height  of  a 
few  hundred  feet  from  the  level  of  a  lake  below  us.  This  lake,  which  is  small 
and  very  beautiful,  receives  a  stream  from  another  lake,  on  a  considerably 
higher  level  and  at  a  distance  of  several  miles.  Over  the  distant  lake  broods 
an  immense  mass  of  dark  storm-cloud,  which  attracts  our  attention  because  it 
is  so  terrible,  and,  toward  its  toppling  summits,  so  elaborate.  In  the  middle 
distance  the  rocky  barrier  between  the  two  lakes  rises  to  a  great  elevation  at 
the  right,  and  a  still  nearer  mass,  also  to  the  right,  fills  the  field  of  vision  in 
that  direction.  Near  a  little  pool,  and  on  the  sloping  pasture  land  in  the  fore- 
ground, are  groups  of  many  trees,  and  an  alluvial  plain  near  the  lake  is  watered 
by  a  winding  river,  on  whose  banks  grow  beautiful  clusters  of  wood.  The 
cpialities  which  strike  us  in  Mr.  Bierstadt  as  an  artist  are,  first,  a  great  auda- 
city, justified  by  perfect  ability  to  accomplish  all  that  he  intends.  He  is  not  a 
mere  copyist  of  Nature,  but  an  artist  having  definite  artistic  intentions,  and 
carrying  them  out  with  care  and  resolution.  .  .  .  He  is  always  trying  for  lumi- 
nous gradations  and  useful  oppositions,  and  he  reaches  what  he  tries  for.  The 
excess  of  his  effort  after  these  things  may  be  repugnant  to  some  critics,  because 
it  is  so  obvious,  and  seems  incompatible  with  the  simplicity  and  self-oblivion 
of  the  highest  artist-natures.  We  believe,  however,  that  in  art  of  this  kind, 
where  the  object  is  to  produce  a  powerful  impression  of  overwhelming  natural 
grandeur,  a  painter  must  employ  all  the  resources  possible  to  him.  This  may 
be  condemned  as  scene-painting,  but  it  is  very  magnificent  scene-painting,  and 
we  should  only  be  too  happy  to  see  more  of  the  same  kind.  .  .  .  Mr.  Bier- 
stadt's  picture  is  full  of  courage   and  ability,  and  his  nature,  which  has  a. 

3G 


148 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


strong  grasp  of  realities,  is  well  fitted  for  the  kind  of  work  lie  lias  under- 
taken." 

Mr.  Bierstadt's  frequent  trips  across  the  continent  have  furnished  him 
with  abundant  opportunities  for  sketching  and  for  study,  and  have  cultivated 
to  the  fullest  extent  his  tastes  for  grandeur  and  sublimity  in  mountain-scenery. 
The  pictures,  of  which  those  sketches  were  the  foundation,  can  be  seen  in 
almost  all  the  principal  galleries  of  the  United  States.  Mr.  James  Lenox 
owns  "  The  Valley  of  the  Yoseniite  ; "  Mr.  Legrand  Lockwood  formerly  owned 
"  The  Domes  of  the  Yosemite  ; "  and  Mr.  U.  H.  Crosby  bought  the  "  Looking 
down  the  Yosemite."  "Laramie  Peak1'  is  in  the  collection  of  the  Buffalo  Acad- 
emy of  the  Fine  Arts ;  "  Cathedral  Rock  "  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  William 
Moller,  of  Irvington,  New  York ;  and  "  The  North  Fork  of  the  Platte  "  in  the 
collection  of  Judge  Hilton,  of  the  same  city.  The  impulse  which  the  late  war 
cave  to  American  picture-making  reached  Mr.  Bierstadt  at  the  most  favorable 
moment.  He  had  more  studies  of  fine  and  novel  scenery  than  any  other  artist 
in  this  country,  and  he  knew  how  to  use  them  in  the  most  effective  style.  It 
soon  became  fashionable  for  gentlemen  of  means,  who  were  founding  or  enlarg- 
ing their  private  galleries,  to  give  Mr.  Bierstadt  an  order  for  a  Rocky  Moun- 
tain landscape,  and  during  at  least  ten  years  the  artist's  income  from  that 
source  was  princely. 

In  like  manner,  the  Franco-German  War  stimulated  the  activity  of  the 
Prussian  studios.  "  A  great  number  of  people,"  says  a  German  correspondent, 
"  who  had  gone  to  bed  poor,  awoke  in  the  morning  millionaires.  Their  mill- 
ions, to  be  sure,  were  only  on  paper,  but  the  world  believed  in  their  reality, 
and  the  owners,  perhaps,  too.  Yesterday  they  had  lived  in  a  house  they 
rented,  to-day  they  must  have  a  house  of  their  own,  and  the  house  must  be  as 
large  and  stately  as  that  of  the  X.  Y.  Z.  Joint-Stock  Company ;  the  facade 
richly  ornamented,  if  possible,  with  frescoes ;  the  vestibule  enlivened  by  rnar- 
ble  statues,  and  the  rooms  too.  The  upholsterer  had  done  his  best :  he  had 
ordered  carpets  from  Lyons,  mirrors  from  Venice,  furniture  from  Paris.  That 
was  ii' »f  enough.  Herr  So-and-so,  who  represented  a  rival  firm,  had  as  much; 
something  unique  was  wanted.  '  The  picture  was  in  the  dealer's  window 
yesterday ;  everybody  knows  the  price — ten  thousand  thalers — and  to-day  it 
hangs  in  my  dining-room.'     For  that  family  group  of  A.  B—   — 's  the  modest 


< 
a 
< 
> 

u 

■v. 

<   ! 

a     -3 
k     ^ 


^ 
£> 


tn 
Z 

<    -i 

K         8 

0    2« 

U       ^ 

K        * 
0        | 

h 
Z 

D 
0 

2 


ALBERT    B I  ERST  AD  T. 


1  19 


painter  asked  fifteen  thousand  tbalers.  '  I  will  give  you  twenty  thousand  if 
you  will  set  to  work  to-day.'  Every  child  knows  the  story.  Such  arguments 
were  irresistible;  those  were  halcyon  days  for  artists.  But  artists,  even  the 
ablest,  are  but  men.  You  know  the  inglorious  nickname  which  the  Clevel- 
and light-hearted  mannerist,  Luca  Giordano,  bears  in  history  ?  Well,  our 
artists  were  in  those  years,  almost  without  exception,  fa  'presto.  In  the 
spring  of  1873  came  the  recoil.  The  millions  proved  but  glittering  bubbles, 
or  rather  something  much  worse.  Like  exploding  shells,  they  scatt erei I  about 
death  and  destruction.  The  palaces,  which  had  been  conjured  out  of  the  earth, 
certainly  remained  in  their  places,  though  they  passed  into  other  hands ;  but 
the  costly  marble  statues  and  the  priceless  pictures — a  legend  was  current  that, 
in  the  hours  of  darkness,  the  portals  of  those  palaces  opened,  and  strange  fune- 
real processions  passed  through  the  still  streets  to  some  picture-dealer  or  other 
who  had  not  yet  lost  all  heart,  and,  in  hope  of  better  days,  was  willing  to  risk 
a  bit  of  capital.  And  that,  unfortunately,  was  not  mere  idle  rumor.  The  pri- 
vate galleries  which  came  into  existence  between  1870  and  1873  have  almost 
all  been  privately  sold,  or  publicly  dispersed  under  the  hammer.  For  artists 
the  fat  days  of  the  '  Promoters '  have  been  followed  by  the  lean  days  of  the 
'  Great  Crash.'  The  artists  had,  and  alas  !  they  still  have,  plenty  of  time  to 
reflect  upon  their  sins  during  those  years,  and  to  paint  better  pictures.  To 
their  credit  be  it  said,  they  have  used  the  opportunity  well.  The  last  great 
Academy  Exhibition  showed  this.  The  characteristics  of  the  display  were 
earnest  effort  and  conscientious  industry."  With  but  few  exceptions,  the 
words  written  concerning  Germany  are  descriptive  of  America  also. 

Mr.  Bierstadt  is  a  believer  in  Wagner's  principle  of  the  value  of  mere 
quantity  in  a  work  of  art.  He  has  painted  more  large  canvases  than  any 
other  American  artist.  His  style  is  demonstrative  and  infused  with  emotion  ; 
he  is  the  Gustave  Dore  of  landscape-painting.  With  Mr.  Cross,  the  English 
Home  Secretary,  he  doubtless  holds  that  art  from  beginning  to  end  is  noth- 
ing more  nor  less  than  imitation — imitation  inspired  (if  not  controlled)  by 
veracity,  refined  by  taste,  and,  we  may  add,  assisted  by  artifice  ;  and,  with  the 
sculptor,  he  likes  a  subject  that  is  noble  in  itself,  and  disdains  to  illumine 
common  things. 


150 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


On  the  occasion  of  the  successful  Loan  Exhibition  under  the  direction  of 
the  Young  People's  Association  of  the  Lafayette  Avenue  Presbyterian  Church, 
iu  Brooklyn,  in  1878,  twenty-four  of  Mr.  Frederick  A.  Bridgman's  paintings 
were  hung  side  by  side  in  what  was  called  the  "  Bridgman  Gallery."  The 
series  comprised  his  first  work  in  oil,  namely,  a  head  of  a  boy ;  his  "  American 
Circus  in  France  ;  "  his  "  Prayer  in  the  Mosque,"  owned  by  Mr.  Edwin  Pack- 
ard ;  his  "  Rameses  II.,"  "  Fete  in  the  Palace  of  Barneses,"  and  portrait  of 
himself,  owned  by  Mr.  B.  Sherk ;  and  his  "  View  on  the  Upper  Nile,"  "  Tete- 
a-tete,"  "  Pride  of  the  Harem,"  "  Woman  of  Kabzla,"  and  "  Normandy  Peas- 
ant-Girl." Large  and  beautiful  as  was  the  Loan  Exhibition,  containing  as  it 
did  bronzes,  laces,  embroideries,  water-colors,  and  many  foreign  and  domestic 
oil-paintings,  Mr.  Bridgman's  collection  was  one  of  its  most  attractive  and 
notable  features.  The  young  artist  appeared  with  distinction  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  friends  of  his  boyhood.  Having  been  for  several  years  a  pupil  of 
the  celebrated  Gerorne,  and  an  enthusiastic  disciple  of  that  master,  it  is  not 
strange  that  the  influence  of  the  latter  should  be  visible  in  many  of  Mr.  Bridg- 
man's pictures.  The  work  that  we  have  engraved  does  not  suggest  Gerorne 
strikingly ;  but  others,  in  subject,  in  composition,  and  in  coloring,  reveal  very 
clearly  the  source  of  their  inspiration.  In  the  recent  exhibition  of  the  Society 
of  American  Artists,  for  example,  Mr.  Bridgman  was  represented  by  his  "Fete 
in  the  Palace  of  Rameses,"  certain  parts  of  which  remind  one  easily  of  the 
painter  of"  L'Almee"  and  "  C16opatre  et  Cesar."  But  a  similar  remark  might 
be  made  concerning  four-fifths  of  the  contributions  to  that  exhibition,  and 
in  general  concerning  nearly  all  of  the  first  productions  of  Americau  artists 
who  have  studied  in  the  ateliers  of  Europe.  In  such  cases  the  intelligent 
spectator  is  little  inclined  to  find  fault.  He  remembers  how  closely  Raphael's 
earlier  Madonnas  resembled  the  creations  of  his  teacher,  Perugino,  and  how 
natural  it  is,  for  a  child  that  is  learning  to  walk,  to  lean  upon  somebody  or 
something.  A  beginner  in  art  must  begin  with  copying ;  and,  the  more  slav- 
ishly he  copies  at  first,  the  better  is  he  likely  to  become.  His  initial  works 
are,  or  should  be,  exact  transcriptions  of  natural  facts,  and  of  selected  models. 
The  results  of  elaborate  convention,  the  penetration  of  imaginative  conception, 
the  personal  impress  stamped  upon  the  canvas  or  the  clay,  come  afterward. 
Imitation  first,  and  then  originality. 


h 
(J) 
U 
> 

e 

< 
x 

a 

x 

h 


0 

E 
b. 

0 

2 

2 

K 

H 
U 

E 

tn 

h 

2 

< 

<: 
w 

0. 

to 
u 
w 
2 
Id 
(S 
>< 
0. 


FREDERICK   A.    BRIDGMAN.  15j 

The  "  Pyrenees  Peasants  returning  from  the  Harvest-Field  "  was  painted 
by  Mr.  Bridgman  for  the  French  Salon  of  1872,  and  bought  by  Mr.  A.  A. 
Low,  of  Brooklyn,  in  whose  gallery  it  now  hangs.  In  the  evening  sunshine, 
and  along  a  picturesquely  winding  and  bordered  road  through  a  rolling  region 
of  country,  a  pair  of  oxen  is  drawing  a  wagon-load  of  garnered  grain,  upon 
which  are  seated  two  Avornen,  apparently  much  more  weary  than  the  faithful 
beasts  in  front  of  them,  or  the  bright  young  fellow  who  leads  the  procession. 
By  the  side  of  the  wagon  another  woman  trudges  on,  her  face  wearing  an 
expression  of  ill-humor  and  disrelish.  She  and  her  sisters,  evidently,  have 
been  working  harder  than  either  the  oxen  or  the  driver.  She  is  barefoot,  too, 
while  the  man  and  the  animals  are  shod.  Beyond  the  shadows  of  the  middle 
distance  the  hill-slopes  lie  in  brightest  light,  which  glows  also  on  the  distant 
landscape  and  the  horizon.  The  principal  elements  of  the  scene  are  empha- 
sized so  as  to  make  a  picture  of  them — and  a  very  pleasant  picture  it  is,  sound 
and  harmonious,  without  showiness  and  without  triviality. 

Mr.  Bridgman's  "Burial  of  a  Mummy"  had  the  honor  of  bringing  to  the 
artist  a  third-class  medal  in  the  Salon  of  1877,  and  of  receiving  from  the 
French  critics  an  award  of  praise  unusual  for  an  American  work.  The  nov- 
elty and  richness  of  the  incident,  the  freshness  and  courage  of  the  treatment, 
the  relief  and  distinctive  characterization  of  the  principal  figures,  and  the 
decidedly  scenic  handling  of  the  subject,  are  easy  of  discernment  in  this  suc- 
cessful pictm*e.  It  was  in  the  American  department  of  the  Paris  Exhibition 
for  1878,  where  it  elicited  from  the  London  Athenwum  highly-favorable  com- 
ment. "The  scene,"  says  the  Athenwum,  "represents  the  Nile,  with  the 
dead  being  transported  by  water  to  their  place  of  burial.  The  centre  of  the 
composition  is  occupied  by  a  barge,  on  which  is  fitted  a  sort  of  catafalque, 
whereon  rests  the  mummy-case ;  at  the  head  and  feet  are  two  figures,  who 
may  be  supposed  to  be  the  mother  and  son  of  the  deceased;  an  altar,  with 
priests  and  some  musicians,  occupies  the  fore-part  of  the  barge,  the  stern  being 
filled  with  a  group  of  lamenting  women ;  the  barge  is  towed  across  the  river 
by  a  boat  manned  by  a  body  of  rowers.  Another  barge,  with  similar  freight- 
age, is  seen  in  advance.  All  the  details  of  costume  and  accessories  are  thor- 
oughly studied,  and  the  drawing  and  painting  are  deserving  of  high  commen- 
dation, as  will  be  understood  by  those  who  remember  Mr.  Bridgman's  '  Nile- 

37 


152 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


Boat '  iu  the  last  year's  Academy  Exhibition.  Especially  beautiful  is  the 
landscape,  showing  the  mountains,  with  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  light- 
ing up  their  tops,  and  the  stretch  of  river  beneath  reflecting  cool  and  pellucid 
sky-tints." 

Mr.  Bridgman's  contribution  to  the  Salon  this  year  is  a  representation  of 
an  Assyrian  king  killing  lions  in  the  amphitheatre.  "  The  monarch,"  says  the 
Paris  correspondent  of  the  Art  Journal,  "  has  just  bent  his  bow,  and  is  in 
the  act  of  launching  his  shaft  at  a  superb  lion,  who  has  been  released  from 
one  of  the  two  clumsy  wooden  cages  dimly  visible  in  the  background,  and 
who,  with  extended  tail  and  lip  upcurled  in  a  portentous  snarl,  is  evidently 
meditating  an  attack."  A  dead  lion  lies  on  the  ground.  The  sky  is  seen 
through  an  opening  at  the  left  of  the  crowded  amphitheatre.  One  of  the 
artist's  latest  works  is  a  view  of  an  old-fashioned  diligence,  with  six  galloping 
horses,  entering  a  village  on  a  bright  summer  morning.  His  feeling  is  strong 
for  the  literary  aspects  of  his  subjects — for  stories  that  tell  themselves,  and 
are  interesting,  if  not  startling,  in  the  telling.  His  principal  works  thus 
far  have  been  concerned  with  reproducing  the  customs  and  the  types  of  the 
ancient  Egyptians  and  the  modern  Turks. 

A  contributor  to  Appletons'  Art  Journal  for  February,  1876,  writes  : 
"  Visitors  to  the  exhibition  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design,  last  spring, 
were  struck  by  a  very  spirited  painting  of  a  circus  exhibition,  described  in  the 
catalogue  as  '  An  American  Circus  in  France.'  The  painter  is  Mr.  Frederick 
A.  Bridgman,  an  artist  yet  in  the  youth  of  his  career.  Mr.  Bridgman  was 
born  iu  Tuskegee,  Alabama,  in  the  year  1847.  He  showed  a  strong  love  for 
the  arts  at  an  early  age.  His  father  having  died,  his  mother  removed  North 
with  her  children,  and  decided  to  apprentice  her  son  to  bank-note  engraving. 
Accordingly,  he  began  work  with  the  American  Bank-Note  Company  in  1862. 
During  this  period  he  painted  at  home,  and  in  the  winter  season  studied  in 
the  art-schools  in  Brooklyn.  After  remaining  in  the  employ  of  the  Bank-Note 
Company  nearly  four  years,  his  engagement  was  canceled,  at  his  own  solicita- 
tion, that  he  might  go  to  Europe  to  study  painting.  He  sailed  for  France  in 
May,  1866,  and  on  landing  went  direct  to  Paris.  After  entering  the  Ecole 
des  Beaux-Arts,  he  began  his  studies  under  Gerome,  who  gave  him  much 
kindly  advice,  and  has  since  that  time  taken  great  interest  in  his  progress. 


"5 


FREDERICK    A.     RRIDOMAN.  153 

During  the  first  three  years  spent  abroad,  he  experienced  the  usual  discour- 
agement of  young  artists  struggling  for  recognition,  notwithstanding  that  Le 
Monde  Illustre  had  engraved  a  number  of  his  paintings,  which  was  an  honor ; 
but  in  the  fourth  year  he  painted  his '  Circus '  and  '  De  quoi  partent  les  Jeunes 
Filles,'  the  success  of  which  at  once  brought  him  into  notice.  At  this  time 
his  pictures  were  well  hung  in  the  Salon,  and  the  Messrs.  Goupil,  of  Paris, 
purchased  many  of  his  works.  Young  Bridgman  spent  his  summers  in  Brit- 
tany, in  the  little  town  of  Pont-Aven,  the  quiet  resort  of  a  little  colony  of 
artists,  and  his  winters  in  Paris.  The  winter  of  1870-71,  however,  found 
him,  together  with  a  number  of  American,  English,  and  French  artists,  again 
in  Pont-Aven,  the  war  interfering  with  arts  in  the  cities.  This  happening  to 
be  an  unusually  severe  winter,  there  were  two  weeks  of  snow  and  ice — a  thing 
unprecedented  in  the  annals  of  Brittany.  Taking  advantage  of  this  opportu- 
nity,  he  and  other  Americans  extemporized  skates  at  the  village  blacksmith's, 
and  astonished  the  peasants  by  their  manoeuvres  on  the  ice.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  he  painted  '  Girls  in  the  Way,'  '  Up  Early,'  and  other  works.  The 
summer  following  the  war  he  went  to  England,  but,  not  liking  the  fog  of 
London,  after  a  brief  sojourn  of  a  month  or  two,  he  returned  to  Paris.  It  was 
in  London  that  he  conceived  his  '  Apollo  bearing  off  Cyrene,'  finishing  it  in 
Paris.  This  picture  was  hung  between  two  of  the  famous  masters  of  France, 
Jules  Breton  and  Bonnat.  He  then  journeyed  south  and  settled  in  the  Pyre- 
nees, on  the  Spanish  border,  where  he  met  Fortuny  and  other  painters,  and 
spent  two  years,  being  charmed  with  the  country  and  costumes.  It  was  from 
this  place  that  he  sent  one  of  several  pictures  to  Mr.  A.  A.  Low,  of  Brooklyn. 
Thence  he  went  to  Algiers,  staying  for  a  season.  The  winter  of  1873-74  he 
spent  in  Egypt  and  Nubia,  among  the  temples  and  obelisks,  taking  this  occa- 
sion also  to  make  an  excursion  up  the  Nile  as  far  as  the  second  cataract,  engag- 
ing a  boat  and  crew,  in  company  with  several  painters.  Returning  from  the 
Orient  in  the  spring  of  1874  to  Paris,  he  brought  with  him  three  hundred 
sketches  in  oil,  water-colors,  and  pencil,  mostly  of  landscapes  and  the  ruins  of 
temples,  as  only  a  few  models  were  to  be  had,  owing  to  the  religious  scruples 
of  the  Mohammedans.  With  the  aid  of  these  sketches,  together  with  the  cos- 
tumes and  curiosities  which  he  had  also  secured,  he  was  enabled  to  finish,  after 
his  return  to  his  studio  in  Paris,  some  fine  Oriental  subjects.     One  of  the  most 


154  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

important  of  these  subjects  was  entitled  'The  Interior  of  a  Harem,  or  the 
Nubian  Fortune-teller.'  It  was  in  the  last  Salon.  Mr.  Bridgman's  '  Circus ' 
was  painted  when  he  was  scarcely  more  than  a  student,  and,  when  exhibited, 
the  masterly  character  of  the  composition  and  its  brilliancy  of  coloring  excited 
general  admiration,  even  among  the  critics  of  Paris.  The  scene  represents  the 
interior  of  an  American  circus.  A  famous  athlete  and  woman  rider  are  per- 
forming a  '  two-horse  act,'  as  described  in  the  bills  of  the  day.  The  trained 
horses  are  making  their  round  of  the  ring  in  a  gentle  canter,  urged  by  the 
crack  of  the  master's  whip ;  and  the  so-called  '  trick-clown  '  and  his  compan- 
ion the  jester  are  engaged  in  their  usual  antics  for  the  delectation  of  the 
crowd.  In  the  original  painting  this  central  tableau  forms  a  superb  study  of 
color.  The  athlete,  in  crimson  jacket  and  buff  trunks,  and  the  woman  in  her 
gauzy  costume  glittering  with  spangles,  together  with  the  sturdy  horses,  and 
the  clowns  in  their  raiments  of  many  colors,  was  a  bold  subject  for  so  young 
an  artist  to  handle,  but  it  was  successful.  As  a  study  of  character,  the  little 
group  of  rustics  on  the  left  can  scarcely  be  excelled.  In  the  faces  the  differ- 
ent emotions  are  ably  expressed.  There  are  the  woman  spectator,  with  her 
hands  clasped,  and  spellbound  at  the  equestrian  act,  and  the  fellow  behind 
her,  with  a  different  temperament,  clapping  his  hands  at  the  vulgar  antics  of 
the  clown.  Again,  the  lout  seated  near  the  tent-pole  has  more  admiration  for 
the  woman  at  his  side  than  the  performance  in  the  ring.  In  the  background 
the  usual  mixed  audience  is  shown,  with  the  band  throwing  out  its  sweet 
strains  to  the  measured  tread  of  the  horses,  and  the  '  Rocky  Mountain  Indian ' 
seated  in  the  broad  light  near  the  grand  entrance.  This  painting  is  in  the 
gallery  of  Mr.  Edward  F.  Rook,  of  Brooklyn." 


Until  middle  life,  Mr.  John  W.  Casilear  was  an  ena;raver.  He  was 
born  in  New  York  City ;  in  his  sixteenth  year  he  went  into  the  atelier  of  the 
late  Peter  Maverick  ;  he  afterward  studied  under  Mr.  A.  B.  Durand.  At  one 
time  In'  was  a  partner  in  the  firm  of  Toppan,  Carpenter  &  Company,  bank-note 
engravers.  One  of  his  principal  efforts  with  the  burin  is  a  reproduction  of 
Mr.  Daniel  Huntington's  oil-painting,  "  The  Sibyl,"  which  was  published  by 
the  American  Art  Union.     In  1840  he  went  to  Europe  with  Messrs.  Durand, 


MOONLIGHT      IN       THE       GL-EN. 

From  a  Painting  by  John   W.  Casilear. 


p.  154. 


JOHN     W.     CASILEAR. 


I  55 


Kensett,  and  Rossiter,  and  directed  his  attention  to  painting ;  and,  like  Mr. 
Durand,  Mr.  Kensett,  and  many  other  celebrities  whose  careers  began  in  the 
workshop  of  the  engraver,  abandoned  the  burin  for  the  brush.  He  came 
back  to  New  York  with  a  good  number  of  original  sketches,  and  with  a  deter- 
mination to  paint,  although  it  was  many  years  later  that  he  finally  relin- 
quished his  hold  upon  wood  and  steel.  He  passed  his  summers  in  the  moun- 
tains of  Vermont  and  in  the  adjoining  States,  made  studies  industriously,  for- 
warded some  of  them  to  the  Academy  exhibitions,  and  in  1835  became  an  as- 
sociate of  that  body,  which,  Mr.  Casilear  modestly  though  rather  ambiguous- 
ly says,  "  took  in  anybody  at  that  time  !  "  His  first  painting  exhibited  there 
was  a  simple  storm-effect  upon  a  summer  landscape.  It  was  a  cabinet-picture. 
His  works  are  usually  small  in  size,  measuring  about  two  feet  by  three.  He 
went  to  Europe  again  in  1857.  Switzerland  was  his  chief  attraction  on  that 
continent,  as  Lake  George  and  the  Genesee  Valley,  in  Western  New  York, 
have  been  on  this  continent.  His  success  has  been  most  conspicuous  in  the 
portrayal  of  simple  pastoral  scenes.  If  he  abandons  them,  and  paints  a  sub- 
ject like  "Niagara  Falls,"  the  public  response  is  imperfect.  His  name  has  be- 
come identified  with  sunny,  peaceful  "  river-sides "  and  meadows.  He  is  an 
Academician,  and  a  member  of  the  Artists'  Fund  Society. 

Although  the  influence  of  an  engraver's  mental  and  manual  habits  is  apt 
to  appear  in  his  oil-paintings,  exceptions  to  this  rule,  as  to  all  others,  occur,  of 
course.  Mr.  Shirlaw's  canvases,  for  example,  discover  no  traces  of  his  early 
devotion  to  steel  and  copper  plates.  The  engraver  who  is  compelled  to  repre- 
sent aerial  perspective  by  the  fineness  and  coarseness  of  his  lines,  and  by  the 
varying  distances  between  them,  is  liable  when  using  the  brush  to  be  ham- 
pered consciously  or  unconsciously  by  restrictions  similar  to  those  that  beset 
him  when  using  the  burin  ;  and  that  very  precision  of  touch  which  in  one 
sphere  of  work  is  an  excellence  becomes  in  another  sphere  a  positive  demerit. 
Moreover,  while  the  art  of  engraving  is  essentially  an  imitative  art,  the  art  of 
painting  is  essentially  interpretative,  and  interpretative  chiefly  by  means  of 
the  qualities  and  tones  of  colors.  So  little  imitative  is  it  that  the  professed 
design  of  some  of  the  greatest  painters  is  the  faithful  representation  of  nothing 
in  heaven,  air,  earth,  or  sea.  They  imagine  a  harmony  of  colors  and  lines,  and 
they  set  forth  simply  their  imagining.     If  the  record  of  it  gives  the  spectator 


38 


15g  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

merely  a  part  of  the  pleasure  which  the  original  gave  thein,  they  are  more  than 
satisfied.  If  he  receives  no  pleasure  at  all,  they  can  only  pity  him,  and  pro- 
ceed to  paint  something  more  of  the  same  sort.  It  would  be  too  much  to  say 
that  Mr.  Casilear's  landscapes  are  entirely  free  from  reminiscences  of  his  early 
craft.     Their  excellence,  however,  is  very  well  defined. 


Mr.  William  M.  Chase  was  born  on  the  1st  of  November,  1849,  in 
Franklin  County,  Indiana.  In  the  year  1868  he  studied  portrait-painting 
under  the  direction  of  Mr.  B.  F.  Hayes,  and  in  1869  became  a  pupil  of  Mr. 
J.  O.  Eaton,  of  New  York,  and  attended  the  school  of  the  Academy  of  De- 
sign. In  1871  he  removed  to  St.  Louis,  and  painted  fruit  and  still-life  for 
one  year,  and  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  went  to  Europe.  He  staid  six 
years  in  Munich,  with  the  exception  of  thirteen  months  spent  in  Venice,  and 
was  a  student  in  the  Royal  Academy.  His  first  picture  sent  thence  to  this 
country  was  "  The  Dowager,"  and  his  next  "  The  Court- Jester,"  which  we  have 
engraved.  A  picture  entitled  "  Feeding  the  Pigeons  "  went  to  St.  Louis,  and 
is  now  owned  in  New  York.  "  The  Apprentice,"  "  The  Poacher,"  and  the 
"  Ready  for  the  Ride,"  were  hung  in  the  Kurtz  Gallery  Exhibition,  in  New 
York,  in  the  spring  of  1878.  Mr.  Chase  is  a  teacher  in  the  rooms  of  the 
Art-Students'  League. 

To  the  National  Academy  Exhibition  of  1875  Mr.  Chase,  Mr.  David  Neal, 
Mr.  J.  Alderi  Weir,  Mr.  Wyatt  Eaton,  and  other  young  artists,  contributed  a 
series  of  works  which  possessed  features  so  new  and  striking  that  public  atten- 
tion was  directed  to  them  at  once.  In  breadth  and  freedom  of  treatment,  in 
tone,  in  a  certain  freshness  and  vitality  of  conception,  these  pictures  were 
altogether  apart  from  most  of  those  that  surrounded  them,  and  that  the 
traditional  visitor  to  the  Academy  expected  to  see.  It  was  on  this  occasion 
that  some  of  the  rising  young  members  of  the  present  Society  of  American 
Artists  made  their  first  appearance  in  public.  Not  long  afterward,  in  the 
rooms  of  Messrs.  Cottier  &  Company,  in  New  York,  a  similar  collection  was 
displayed,  Mrs.  Helena  De  Kay  Gilder,  Miss  Oakey,  Mr.  Francis  Lathrop,  Mr. 
A.  II.  Thayer,  and  Mr.  Albert  Ryder,  being  also  contributors.  In  the  Acad- 
emy Exhibition  of    1  >■  7 7   the   young  artists  had    a  fine    representation,  and 


THE     COURT-JESTER. 

From  a  Painting  by   William  M.  Chase. 


p.  156. 


WILLIAM    M.     CHASE. 


157 


were  treated  with  unusual  courtesy  by  the  hanging  committee ;  and  the  next 
year,  though  many  of  them  sent  works  to  the  regular  Academy  Exhibition 
an  exhibition  of  their  own  was  organized  in  the  Kurtz  Gallery,  in  the  same 
city.  Notable  among  the  artists  there  represented  were  Mr.  W.  H.  Low,  Mr. 
William  Sartain,  Mr.  Thomas  Eakins,  Mr.  Thomas  Moran,  Mr.  William  E. 
Bunce,  Mr.  Charles  H.  Miller,  Mr.  William  M.  Hunt,  Mr.  John  S.  Sargent,  Mr. 
W.  S.  Macy,  Mr.  R.  Swain  Gifford,  Miss  Elizabeth  Booth,  Mr.  Frank  Duveneck, 
Mr.  W.  Twachtmann,  Mr.  Charles  S.  Pearce,  Mr.  T.  W.  Dewing,  Mr.  A.  H.  Wy- 
ant,  Mr.  Charles  G.  Dyer,  Mr.  John  La  Farge,  Mr.  Samuel  Colman,  Mr.  Louis 
C.  Tiffany,  Mr.  James  M.  Whistler,  Mr.  Homer  D.  Martin,  Mr.  J.  C.  Beckwith, 
Mr.  J.  McClure  Hamilton,  Mr.  C.  B.  Comans,  Mr.  Frederick  Bridgman,  Mr. 
George  Inness,  Mr.  George  Inness,  Jr.,  Mr.  Frederick  Dielman,  Mr.  William 
Dannat,  and  Mr.  Olin  L.  Warner,  in  addition  to  the  artists  already  mentioned. 
The  portrait-studies  of  Mr.  J.  Alden  Weir  received  especial  attention.  Con- 
cerning one  of  them,  which  Mr.  Weir  elaborated  into  a  life-size  representation 
of  his  father,  Professor  Robert  W.  Weir,  and  sent  to  the  National  Academy 
Exhibition,  the  writer  said,  at  the  time  :  "  Mr.  J.  Alden  Weir's  portrait  of  his 
father  is  an  exceedingly  artistic  work,  well  worthy  of  serious  study  on  the  part 
of  visitors  to  the  exhibition.  It  has  not  been  treated  very  favorably,  nor,  we 
think,  fairly,  by  the  hanging  committee,  but  that  makes  absolutely  no  difference 
whatever,  so  far  as  its  reception  by  intelligent  men  and  women  is  concerned. 
If  the  hanging  committee  think  that  this  picture  is  inferior  to  a  score  of  other 
productions  hung  upon  the  line,  the  hanging  committee  are  greatly  to  be  pitied. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  they  conceive  it  to  be  their  duty  to  honor  the  Academi- 
cians simply  for  the  reason  that  the  latter  are  Academicians,  they  should  say 
so  at  once,  and  let  the  public  understand  the  matter.  Mr.  Weir's  portrait, 
however,  can  be  seen  quite  well  where  it  is.  It  discovers  a  sensitive  and 
refined  perception  of  character,  a  naturalness,  zest,  and  individuality  of 
treatment,  and  a  robust  nobleness  and  severity  of  purpose  which  are  not  less 
delightful  than  rare.  With  mere  superficial  cleverness,  with  paiutiness,  pret- 
tiness,  and  polish,  it  has  no  concern.  The  subject  is  handled  as  an  organic 
whole — handled  broadly,  and  at  the  same  time  with  sufficient  attention  to 
details.  Look,  for  instance,  at  the  modeling  of  the  hands — how  faithfully, 
intelligently,  and  solidly  it  has  been  done !  and  consider  how  miserably  it  is 


158  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

usually  done  in  modern  portrait-painting.  The  picture  has  feeling  and  soul ; 
it  depicts  a  live  man,  a  real  man,  who  thinks,  and  whose  thoughts  are  worth 
something,  who  has  a  brain  and  a  heart,  and  whose  experience  is  of  value. 
Of  how  little  need  are  elaborate  and  carefully-arranged  accessories  in  a  work 
like  this  !  What  accessories,  indeed,  could  be  fewer  or  simpler  than  the  ones 
in  use  here  '.  The  representation  is  sculpturescpie  in  its  simplicity  and  dig- 
nity. Everything  transient,  accidental,  and  unimportant,  has  been  passed  by 
in  order  to  concentrate  the  unity  and  the  force  of  the  impression  intended  to 
be  transmitted.  The  artist  has  seen  his  subject,  not  in  parts  but  in  mass,  and 
his  treatment  of  it  is  free  from  studio-tricks.  High  art  is  not  often  popular 
art,  because,  in  order  that  a  work  shall  be  popular,  its  excellences  must  be,  to 
a  certain  extent,  obvious  ;  and  obviousness  is  usually  the  very  last  element  of 
aesthetic  merit.  In  ancient  times  a  pig  was  considered  to  be  the  proper  sacri- 
fice to  the  goddess  of  the  lower  world,  and  figures  of  pigs  were  dedicated  to 
her  in  this  world.  Now,  a  pig  is  the  most  obvious  of  creatures.  His  attri- 
butes, being  all  on  the  surface,  can  be  appreciated  at  once.  But  sometimes 
high  art  is  popular  too,  probably  for  the  reason  that  there  are  exceptions  to 
every  rule.  Mr.  Chase's  '  Apprentice,'  for  example,  in  the  Society  of  American 
Artists'  Exhibition  last  month,  was  high  art,  yet  almost  everybody  seemed  to 
like  it.  Mr.  Weir's  portrait  also  contains  certain  elements  of  popularity  which 
commend  it  to  the  common  throng.  The  greater  number  of  visitors  to  the 
Academy,  doubtless,  are  struck  by  it  and  pleased  with  it.  We  wish  that  they 
could  be  induced  to  study  it  under  the  direction  of  a  competent  expounder. 
They  would  learn  excellently  well  the  nature  and  the  value  of  a  really  artistic 
portrait." 


The  earlier  works  of  Mr.  Albert  F.  Bellows  were  painted  in  oils ;  the 
later  ones  almost  exclusively  in  water-colors.  His  ancestors  came  to  this 
country  from  England  in  1034.  When  sixteen  years  old  he  was  apprenticed 
to  a  lithographer  in  Boston.  After  a  course  of  instruction  in  Europe,  he 
painted  "The  First  Pair  of  Boots,"  "  The  City  Cousins,"  "  The  Sorrows  of 
Boyhood,"  and  other  geiwe  pictures,  and  in  1861  was  elected  an  Academician. 
In  1865  he  crossed  the  Atlantic  again,  and  spent  many  months  in  the  study 


A     BY-WAV     NEAR     TORQUAY,     DEVONSHIRE. 
From  a  Painting  bv  Albert  F.  Bellows. 


p.  158. 


ALBERT    F.     BELLOWS.  I59 

of  the  English  water-colorists,  making  sketches  of  farmhouses,  hamlets,  and 
country  lanes,  which  he  used  in  such  pictures  as  "A  By-way  near  Torquay,  in 
Devonshire "  and  "  Devonshire  Cottages."  He  is  one  of  the  principal  con- 
tributors to  the  regular  exhibitions  of  the  American  Water-Color  Society. 
His  studio  was  in  Boston,  and  is  now  in  New  York.  A  recent  biographer  in 
Appletons'  Art  Journal  writes :  "Mr.  Bellows  has  been  a  constant  and  large 
exhibitor  in  the  New  York  exhibitions,  and  probably  no  class  of  subjects  finds 
so  much  favor  in  the  eyes  of  connoisseurs  and  the  public  as  that  presented  by 
him.  To  the  recent  exhibition  of  the  American  Society  of  Painters  in  Water- 
Colors  he  sent  several  charming  pictures,  two  of  the  most  important  of  which 
are  engraved  here,  both  illustrating  English  rural  scenes.  To  many  admirers 
of  art  the  '  By-way  near  Torquay '  will  be  accepted  as  one  of  Mr.  Bellows's 
most  delightful  pictures.  The  subject  gives  a  view  of  a  farm-lane  embow- 
ered in  trees,  leading,  perhaps,  from  the  village  street,  where  the  cottages  clus- 
ter in  the  distance,  to  the  foreground  brook.  Across  the  pool  a  huge  log  has 
been  thrown,  and  another  projects  over  the  water,  and  from  this  causeway  two 
girls  with  rods  and  lines  are  fishing.  The  subject  has  no  sensational  feature  to 
commend  it  to  favor ;  its  success  consists  solely  in  its  simplicity  of  treatment 
and  the  presentation  of  a  real  scene  drawn  from  Nature — one  which  not  only 
embodies  a  pleasant  expression  of  sentiment,  but  appeals  to  the  heart.  The 
stretch  of  cool,  transparent  water  in  the  foreground,  and  the  bit  of  blue  sky 
which  shows  above  the  house-tops  in  the  distance,  together  with  the  sparkling 
effect  of  light  and  shade  which  intervenes  along  the  shaded  lane,  will  be 
appreciated  by  all  as  beautiful  incidents  in  the  composition.  In  the  picture 
of  '  Devonshire  Cottages '  is  a  group  of  cottages  with  thatched  roofs  and  rude 
chimneys,  poor  and  unpretending  structures,  but  so  embowered  in  running 
vines  and  shrubbery  that  they  assume  striking  features  of  beauty  and  pictu- 
resqueness.  There  are  no  children  here,  but,  as  an  evidence  of  life,  an  English 
matron  stands  in  the  door  of  her  cottage,  and  is  apparently  watching  her  flock 
of  geese  on  their  march  to  the  foreground  pool.  There  are  but  few  American 
artists  whose  works  are  more  popular  than  those  of  Mr.  Bellows,  and  this  is 
due  not  only  to  the  taste  shown  in  the  selection  of  subjects,  but  also  to  their 
artistic  treatment." 
39 


160 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


In  a  conversation  originally  reported  in  the  New  York  Evening  Post, 
Professor  Robert  W.  Weir,  recently  of  West  Point,  said  to  the  writer,  while 
showing  his  picture  of  "  Christ  in  the  Garden " :  "  The  age  is  materialistic, 
but  tew  persons  buy  religious  pictures;  and  then,  not  every  painter  is 
in  a  condition  to  paint  them.  Haydon,  you  remember,  tried  a  Christ,  and, 
as  somebody  said  of  it,  the  head  he  produced  resembled  his  own,  '  with  red 
hair  and  a  mouth  like  a  letter-box.'  The  tenderness  of  Christ  always  seems 
to  me  to  have  been  his  dominant  characteristic ;  and  I  prefer  to  represent  him 
as  in  the  act  of  saying,  '  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me,'  rather 
than  as  in  the  act  of  commanding  the  winds  and  the  waves  to  be  still.  Very 
touching  are  such  words  of  human  sympathy.  Yet  to  delineate  his  character 
is  impossible.  A  year  or  two  ago  I  painted  the  two  Marys  at  the  tomb,  and 
left  the  figure  of  Christ  to  be  imagined.  I  have  often  so  left  it.  One  feels  a 
delicacy  in  even  attempting  the  delineation." 

"  Is  not  the  modern  landscape,"  I  asked,  "  with  its  presentation  and  inter- 
pretation of  the  beauty  of  Nature,  truly  a  religious  work?"  "  Undoubtedly 
it  is,"  he  replied  ;  "  it  raises  the  aspiration  of  the  beholder  from  earth  to  heav- 
en ;  it  lays  before  us  the  work  of  the  Creator.  Nature — truth — gives  the 
value  to  all  works  of  art.  A  very  ordinary  subject,  when  treated  truthfully, 
is  always  impressive.  Sometimes  the  sight  of  a  cloud  in  the  sky  brings  tears 
to  my  eyes.  I  have  tried  to  connect  the  sight  with  something  I  have  seen 
before ;  but  the  effort  was  useless.  The  emotion  was  simply  spontaneous — 
beyond  my  control." 

"  Turner's  '  Slave-Ship,'  "  observed  the  professor,  "  is  a  wonderful  piece  of 
painting,  but  it  tells  no  story  whatever,  and  was  not  intended  to  do  so.  It  is 
simply  an  effect  of  color,  and  of  light  and  dark ;  and  as  such  it  is  the  very 
cream  and  poetry  of  painting.  Thackeray  said  of  Turner's  '  Temeraire,' '  If 
that  picture  could  be  translated  into  music,  it  would  be  a  national  anthem;' 
and  a  similar  remark  might  be  made  concerning  the  '  Slave-Ship.'  Turner,  in 
my  opinion,  painted  rapidly  from  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  laying  on  his 
colors  furiously,  with  perhaps  only  a  knife  or  trowel.  When  he  had  done 
enough  to  suggest  a  thought,  he  would  stop,  and  then  tack  on  a  name  to  the 
canvas — any  name  that  his  fancy  dictated,  or  a  quotation  from  some  poem  like 
the  '  Fallacies  of  Hope,'  fur  example,  a  poem  which  never  existed.      In  his 


$fffe&-> 


DEVONSHIRE     COTTAGES. 
From  a  Painting  by  Albert  F.  Bellows. 


p.  160. 


ROBERT    W.     WEIR.  \Q\ 

'  Slave-Ship '  the  black  figure  in  the  foreground  lias  a  leg  ten  feet  long,  the 
fish  have  eyes  as  big  as  dinner-plates,  and  iron  is  made  to  float  on  the  water. 
He  fastened  a  manacle  around  that  leg,  and  called  the  picture  the  'Slave-Ship.' 
He  didn't  know  what  he  intended  to  do  when  he  began  to  paint  it." 

The  professor  proceeded  to  illustrate  how,  in  his  opinion,  the  work  had 
been  done.  From  a  corner  of  his  studio  he  brought  out  a  marine  of  his  own 
— gray-toned,  cloudy,  stormy,  the  sun  setting  behind  a  bank  of  dark  cloud, 
and  tipping  some  of  the  troubled  waves  with  light,  the  whole  scene  expressive 
of  immensity  and  of  desolation.  "  I  painted  that,"  said  he,  "  in  an  hour  one 
morning,  after  looking  at  the  '  Slave-Ship,'  just  to  illustrate  for  myself  my 
own  idea  of  Turner's  process ;  I  mixed  my  colors  hurriedly  on  the  palette  and 
transferred  them  to  the  canvas  with  a  small  trowel.  I  did  not  once  use  a 
brush.  Now,  if  I  wanted  to  give  the  picture  a  name,  I  shoidd  put  some 
object  on  the  canvas,  and  append  a  title  in  accordance  with  it.  Ruskin,  you 
remember,  observes  that  no  two  inches  of  Turner's  pictures  have  the  same  tint. 
In  that  respect  they  are  just  like  Nature ;  and  this  result  can  be  produced  in 
no  other  way  than  that  I  have  described." 

The  professor's  humor  played  brilliantly  around  his  philosophy  of  Turner, 
and  it  was  pleasant  to  hear  his  version  of  some  stories  about  his  English 
brother — the  story,  for  instance,  of  the  lady  looking  over  Turner's  shoulder, 
and  telling  Turner  that  she  didn't  see  anything  in  what  he  was  doing.  "  But 
don't  you  wish  you  could,  though '{  "  replied  the  painter.  "  Somebody,"  con- 
tinued the  professor,  "  once  remarked  that  a  marine  of  Turner's  at  the  Royal 
Academy  Exhibition  iu  Loudon  was  '  too  cool.'  It  was  hanging  beside  a  very 
warm  landscape  by  Constable,  and  opposite  it,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
was  a  representation  of  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego,  dancing  in  the 
fiery  furnace.  The  criticism  was  repeated  to  Turner.  It  seemed  to  nettle 
him.  Soon  afterward  he  threw  a  fistful  of  bright-red  pigment  into  one  cor- 
ner of  the  '  too  cool '  picture.  One  of  the  artists  at  the  exhibition  remarked 
that  a  coal  had  popped  out  of  the  fiery  furnace  opposite.  In  a  day  or  two 
Turner  shaped  the  coal  into  a  buoy,  which  shed  red  light  upon  the  neighbor- 
ing waves.  The  whole  tone  of  the  picture  was  transformed  ;  and  Constable's 
picture  became  the  one  that  was  '  too  cool.'  " 

When  American  artists  were  touched  in  the  conversation,  the  touch  was 


Ig2  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

always  generous  and  gentle.  The  veteran  had  no  bitterness  of  spirit.  Jeal- 
ousy and  envy  simply  had  no  place.  I  wish  that  I  could  transcribe  all  his 
tributes  and  his  estimates.  Many  of  his  observations  on  foreign  painters, 
also,  would  bear  repeating.  Geronie  has  immense  technical  power,  he  thinks, 
but  lacks  refinement  of  feeling,  and  is  fond  of  the  theatrical.  His  "  Cleopatra 
before  Caesar  "  was  admirable  in  background  ;  but  the  frail  cpieen  herself  was 
miserably  doue.  The  "Circassian  Slave"  dancing  was  vulgar,  coarse,  badly 
drawn,  and  hard  and  resonant  as  porcelain.  "  Knock  it,  and  it  will  ring." 
But  here,  again,  the  background  was  beautiful.  The  "  Sword-Dance,"  how- 
ever, was  a  very  remarkable  piece  of  execution,  and  a  truthful  representation 
of  the  scene,  the  figure  of  the  woman  being  delightfully  managed  so  that  the 
green  veil  which  floats  about  her  does  not  injure  the  rest  of  the  color.  Still, 
in  general,  Geronie's  productions  have  in  them  more  of  work  than  of  pleasure. 
Wilkie's  honest  scenes  were  rich  in  sentiment  and  masterly.  "  Meissonier  is 
all  very  well ;  gets  enormous  prices  for  his  pictures,  far  beyond  their  worth. 
I  suppose  he  is  so  well  known  that  everybody  who  has  a  collection  wants  one 
of  his  pictures.  But  his  '  Man  smoking  a  Pipe  ' — what  is  it  ?  Wonderfully 
made  out ;  no  one  could  have  executed  it  better :  a  piece  of  ingenuity,  like 
that  of  a  man  playing  a  trick,  who  does  something  you  can't  comprehend, 
almost.  He  doesn't  come  out  with  human  feeling,  like  Wilkie  in  his  '  Gentle 
Shepherd,'  for  example.  Wilkie's  work  always  has  in  it  that  '  one  touch  of 
nature  ' — human  nature — which  interests,  brightens,  awakens  the  sympathy. 
The  heart  is  the  object  that  a  work  of  art  appeals  to.  The  appeal  to  the 
intellect  is  only  incidental.  That  is  why  Meissonier  is  not  so  great  an  artist 
as  Wilkie.  At  the  same  time  a  work  of  art  should  elevate  as  well  as  excite 
the  emotions."  The  professor  was  getting  upon  delicate  ground,  and  I  re- 
solved to  ask  him  point-blank  whether  the  infusion  of  a  moral  design  into  a 
work  of  art  is  artistically  legitimate.  His  reply  was  cpiick  and  clear.  "  A 
moral  end  is  legitimate,"  he  said;  "painters  have  immoral  ends,  why  can't  they 
have  moral  ones?  A  good  deal  of  modern  art-work  is  a  prostitution  of  art. 
A  good  many  pictures  excite  immoral  feelings  in  the  spectator.  They  have 
this  effect,  whether  they  were  intended  to  or  not.  Why  should  not  a  painter 
aim  to  excite  moral  feelings  ?  Much  of  the  present  representation  of  the  nude 
is  all  wrong,  and  has  no  reason  for  existing.     Take  any  young  girl  with  you 


< 

0 

z 

< 

< 
►4 
< 
IS) 

0 


o 
Z 

D 
0 
0 

w 

I 

H 

w 
a 
o 

u. 
w 
m 

Cfl 

D 
CQ 
S 
D 
J 
0 
0 


— — =^ 


ROBERT     W.     WEIR. 


163 


into  a  room  where  some  French  figure-pieces  are  hanging,  and  she  will  with- 
draw her  arm  from  yours  and  walk  out.  In  Europe,  of  course,  they  are  more 
accustomed  to  this  sort  of  thing.  But  a  great  deal  of  French  art  is  really 
lewd  and  immoral,  whatever  people  may  say  they  think  about  it,  and  its 
cleverness  does  not  excuse  it.  After  all,  a  picture  is  a  register  of  the  artist's 
own  moral  state.  A  vulgar  mind  cannot  produce  a  refined  picture.  Most 
of  Stuart's  portraits  contain  an  expression  that  he  had  on  his  own  lips — 
yet  they  are  all  good  portraits.  He  reflected  himself  in  his  works — and  he 
couldn't  help  it." 

"  What  is  art  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Art,"  he  replied,  "  is  man's  interpretation  of  beauty,  expressed  not  only 
in  form  and  color,  but  in  every  truth  which  can  be  represented  or  suggested 
by  poetic  words  or  by  pictorial  skill.  It  is  the  chiseled,  colored,  or  written 
index  of  the  mind  ;  and  for  this  reason,  in  its  purity,  in  the  integrity  of  its 
purpose,  it  is  a  strong  incentive  to  good.  To  study  the  language  which  all 
visible  objects  speak,  and  by  this  means  to  bring  out  the  higher  relations 
which  they  bear  to  human  thought  and  life,  is  the  poetry  of  art." 

Professor  Weir's  modesty  prevented  me  from  hearing  much  about  his  own 
pictures.  He  read  me  a  sketch  of  the  history  of  painting,  which  I  should 
like  to  see  in  print — the  subject  is  so  dull  and  has  been  so  often  "  botched," 
and  he  treats  it  so  gracefully  and  so  luminously.  The  variety  of  his  sub- 
jects in  painting  and  the  charm  with  which  he  handles  them  are  too  well 
known  to  justify  extended  description  at  this  time.  In  "  A  Child's  Dream," 
one  of  his  latest  unfinished  pictures,  the  scene  is  very  simple — a  little  naked 
boy  lying  on  his  side  on  a  bed,  his  left  arm  under  his  head,  and  his  right 
resting  on  some  flowers  that  have  fallen  from  his  hand.  He  is  as  sweet  and 
pretty  as  one  of  Bouguereau's  children,  and  his  dream  is  of  an  angel  stand- 
ing by  him  and  attended  by  three  cherubs — the  boy's  dead  sister  and  broth- 
ers. The  blue  eyes  of  one  of  the  brothers  express  the  tenderest  solicitude 
for  the  little  sleeper ;  and  the  arm  of  the  angel  is  raised  in  benediction.  In 
truth  of  expression,  in  dramatic  force,  in  absence  of  studio-marks,  in  pathos, 
in  unity,  in  softness  and  delicacy  of  flesh-tints,  the  picture  is  obviously  rich. 
"  You  will  finish  it  ? "  I  asked.  "  Well,  perhaps  so — for  the  next  Academy 
Exhibition.     It  requires  some  stock  of  health  to  do  so  and  a  good  deal  of 


40 


164  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

study ;  "  and  then  be  added  in  an  undertone,  "  Art  with  me  is  not  a  play- 
thing." As  I  turned  to  leave  the  studio,  with  its  easels,  its  hanging-casts  of  feet, 
arms,  legs,  and  heads,  its  pictures  on  the  walls  and  on  the  floor,  its  large,  old 
cabinet  of  carved  wood,  its  high-backed,  comfortable  chairs,  its  rug  before  the 
cozy  fireplace,  its  loaded  bookcases,  its  store-boxes  for  paint  and  brushes,  its 
standing  groups  of  spears,  swords,  and  bows,  its  collections  of  armor  and  num- 
berless curiosities,  its  general  air  of  pleasantness  and  full  equipment,  the  artist 
accompanied  me  to  the  door,  and  when  he  opened  it  there  were  the  cloudless 
azure  and  the  honest  sunlight  of  a  perfect  September  day.  As  he  stood  with 
one  hand  grasping  the  knob,  the  other  resting  in  his  trousers'  pocket,  and  his 
face  illumined  with  a  smile  to  speed  the  parting  guest,  I  forgot  that  he  had 
told  me  he  was  seventy-five  years  old.  It  was  noon  out-doors,  and  the  foliage 
was  ripe  but  not  yet  faded,  beneath  a  firmament  gradationed  from  zenith-sap- 
phire to  horizon-gray.  To  me  it  seemed  that  it  was  high-noon  also  in  that 
serene  and  generous  soul,  amid  the  glory  and  the  fruitage  of  autumn  without 
a  withered  leaf. 

Mr.  K.  W.  Weir  was  born  at  New  Rochelle,  New  York,  on  the  18th  of 
June,  1803.  He  studied  art  in  Europe,  and  was  the  successor  of  the  painter 
Leslie  as  Professor  of  Drawing  in  the  United  States  Military  Academy  at 
West  Point.  His  works  are  principally  historical  and  genre.  Among  them 
are  "  Columbus  before  the  Council  of  Salamanca,1'  "  The  Embarkation  of  the 
Pilgrims,"  "  Christ  and  Nicodemus,"  "  The  Landing  of  Hendrik  Hudson," 
"  Pa3stum  by  Moonlight,"  "  View  of  the  Hudson  from  West  Point,"  and 
"  Child's  Evening  Prayer."  One  of  his  latest  pictures  is  a  delightful  cabinet 
marine,  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Isaac  Henderson,  Jr. 


Mr.  Alexander  H.  Wyant,  the  landscape-painter,  was  born  in  Port  Wash- 
ington, Ohio,  in  1839.  For  several  years  he  was  a  sign-painter  in  that  village. 
He  removed  to  Cincinnati  and  painted  some  pictures,  which  commended  them- 
selves to  the  art-patrons  of  the  city,  and  brought  him  money  enough  to  go  to 
Europe  with.  At  Diisseldorf  he  studied  under  the  direction  of  Hans  Gude, 
and  became  slightly  acquainted  with  Lessing — "a  strange,  silent  man,"  he 
gays,  "  wlio,  when  I  called  on  him,  sent  his  portfolio  to  me,  and  went  off  into 


h 

< 

a 

a 

h 
W 
K 

a 
a 

S 

g 

D 

en 

Q 

i       < 


^ 

^ 


ALEXANDER    IT.     WYANT.  165 

the  woods  shooting."  The  Diisseldorf  school  seems  to  have  made  no  impres- 
sion upon  the  young  artist.  He  held  his  sympathies  in  reserve  until  he  saw 
the  landscapes  of  Constable  and  Turner  in  London.  He  returned  to  America, 
opened  a  studio  in  New  York,  and  contributed  to  the  Academy  Exhibition  of 
1865  some  scenes  in  the  valley  of  the  Ohio  River.  In  1868  he  was  elected  an 
Associate  of  that  institution,  and  in  1869  an  Academician,  when  he  exhibited 
his  "  View  on  the  Upper  Susquehanna."  The  Adirondack^  are  his  favorite 
resort ;  he  speaks  enthusiastically  of  the  rich  hues  of  the  Northern  woods. 
"A  Midsummer  Retreat"  and  "On  the  Ausable  River"  are  studies  of  Adi- 
rondack scenery. 

Mr.  Wy ant's  landscapes  in  recent  years  have  received  a  great  deal  of  atten- 
tion and  intelligent  admiration,  and  the  spectator  who  appreciates  them  would 
think  it  almost  incredible  that  their  maker  ever  studied  at  Diisseldorf.  The 
works  of  no  painter  in  this  country  are  farther  away  from  the  aims  and  results 
of  the  Diisseldorf  school.  Mr.  Bierstadt,  one  might  say,  is  a  typical  Diissel- 
dorfian,  and  Mr.  Wyant  is  the  negation  of  Mr.  Bierstadt.  It  is  to  the  influ- 
ence of  Constable  primarily  that  the  pictures  of  Mr.  Wyant,  like  those  of 
the  best  French  landscapists,  owe  their  breadth  and  freedom  of  treatment ;  and 
Mr.  Wyant  would  be  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  forgive  a  critic  like  Mr. 
Dawson  for  speaking  of  "  the  dauby  and  impudent  Corot  kind."  He  is  em- 
phatically a  painter  of  wholes,  of  effects.  He  looks  for,  finds,  and  grasps  the 
specific,  essential,  permanent  truths  of  a  scene,  and  when  he  portrays  them  he 
knows  how  to  illumine  and  amplify  them.  His  soft,  far  distances,  and  imme- 
diate foregrounds,  are  alike  impressive  in  contradistinction  to  being  didactic. 
The  modern  pre-Raphaelites  are  his  aversion  ;  the  decorative  school  is  his 
abhorrence ;  and  all  mere  cleverness  of  composition  and  technique,  all  super- 
ficial artifices,  everything  that  might  come  between  the  spectator  and  the  true 
spirit  of  the  scene,  are  an  offense  in  his  eyes.  And  his  art,  like  all  good  art,  is 
delicate,  simple,  and  direct. 

The  principal  failing  of  the  modern  impressionists,  as  they  are  called — and 
Mr.  Wyant's  sympathies  are  decidedly  with  the  inrpressionists — is  their  frivol- 
ity, or,  as  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  woidd  put  it,  their  lack  of  intellectual  serious- 
ness. The  spirit  of  their  invention  is  groveling.  Take,  for  example,  M.  Gus- 
tave  Moreau's  picture,  "  L' Apparition,"  which  was  a  "  sensation  "  in  the  Salon 


166 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


a  few  years  ago,  concerning  which  a  critic  who  saw  it  said  :  "  It  possesses  a 
certain  intensity  and  fascination  which  prove  the  artist  to  have  been  genuinely 
inspired,  but  his  vision  is  keenest  in  regard  to  truths  that  the  noblest  order  of 
design  would  take  but  little  heed  of.  The  gesture  of  the  dancer,  as  she  pauses 
in  sudden  terror  at  sight  of  the  pale  and  bleeding  face  appearing,  not  as 
she  had  asked  for  it,  but  with  a  spectral  presence,  is  strongly  dramatic,  and  is 
finely  contrasted  with  the  unmoved  calm  of  those  who  sit  around.  But  it 
may  be  seen  that  even  here  the  success  belongs  rather  to  a  vivid  picture  of 
manners  than  to  any  deep  penetration  into  individual  character.  We  seem  to 
realize  the  scene,  with  its  rich  dyes  of  furniture  and  costume  and  glittering 
jewels  flashing  out  from  the  deep  gloom  of  the  interior,  much  as  if  it  had  been 
rendered  by  a  painter  in  the  court  of  Herod.  The  invention  cannot  escape 
from  the  sensuality  and  cynical  luxury  which  it  contemplates ;  and  so  closely 
has  the  artist  identified  himself  with  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  life  he  strives 
to  interpret,  that  what  might  have  been  a  great  ideal  design  sinks  to  the  por- 
traiture of  a  degraded  court.  If  M.  Moreau  presents  the  limitations  of  the 
modern  artist's  imagination,  he  also  illustrates  with  most  remarkable  effect  the 
technical  skill  and  taste  of  the  modern  French  school." 

Now,  Mr.  Wyant's  aims  are  not  at  all  frivolous.  The  impressions  which 
he  strives  to  record,  and  which  he  succeeds  in  recording,  are  worthy  of  him- 
self and  of  the  spectator.  His  penetration  into  the  heart  and  the  mystery  of 
Nature  gets  deeper  as  he  grows  older ;  his  insight  and  sympathy  become  more 
profound.  We  have  not  an  American  painter  whose  artistic  purpose  is  less 
alloyed  with  conventionalism,  with  vulgarity,  with  opinionativeness,  or  with 
"  clap-trap.1'  Following  the  even  tenor  of  his  way,  he  interprets  the  beauty 
of  the  unseen  and  the  lasting ;  and,  if  he  is  sometimes  less  perspicacious  than 
he  might  be,  the  failing  is  one  that  leans  to  virtue's  side. 


When  Mr.  Lowell,  in  behalf  of  himself  and  some  brother  poets,  wrote  of 
"  the  coming  race,  who  haply  shall  not  count  it  to  our  crime  that  we,  who 
fain  would  sing,  are  here  before  our  time,"  his  words,  doubtless,  awoke  a 
response  in  the  heart  of  his  friend  Mr.  William  Page  ;  but  an  artist  who  has 
been  as  successful  as   Mr.  Eastman  Johnson  is  scarcely  an  object  of  poetic 


ON      THE       AUSABLE       RIVER. 
From  a  Painting  by  Alexander  //.   Wyant. 


p.  100. 


EASTMAN    JOHNSON.  \<;- 

consolation.  Almost  from  the  start  his  pictures  have  been  widely  appreciated, 
and  have  brought  him  annually  a  handsome  financial  return.  Many  of  them, 
perhaps  the  best  of  them,  have  the  simple,  tender  characterization,  the  sweet, 
serene  inspiration,  that  make  Edouard  Frere's  genre  works  so  pleasing;  and 
almost  all  of  them  display  a  real  original  power  that  penetrates  and  discloses 
the  newness  and  freshness  of  common  scenes.  Mr.  Johnson's  subjects  are 
taken  from  American  life — from  the  late  war,  as  in  his  "Drummer-Boy,"  his 
"  Convalescent  Soldier,"  and  his  "  Pension-Claim  Agent  ; "  from  Southern 
slavery,  as  in  his  "  Old  Kentucky  Home,"  and  "  Washington's  Kitchen  at 
Mount  Vernon  ;  "  and  from  Northern  homes  and  streets  in  country  and  city, 
as  in  his  "  Getting  warm,"  a  girl  standing  by  a  stove,  "  The  Chimney-Swee|>." 
and  "  The  Organ-Boy."     His  pictures  are  presentations  of  national  types. 

"  The  absence  of  historical  art  in  America,"  says  Mr.  O.  B.  Bunce,  "  is 
often  noticed,  and,  no  doubt,  there  exists  good  reason  for  it.  But  both  our 
sculptors  and  painters  have  utterly  ignored  one  character  in  our  imaginative 
literature,  that  not  only  seems  completely  consonant  with  the  spirit  of  our 
woods,  but  with  the  history  of  America.  We  refer  to  young  Uncas  of  Coop- 
er's '  Mohicans.'  This  graceful  and  splendid  savage  is  the  type  of  the  Ameri- 
can past.  He  personates  the  spirit  of  the  woods.  We  think  of  him  as  an 
aboriginal  Apollo,  or  as  an  epic  hero  of  the  forests.  He  possesses  every 
attribute  of  the  typical  hero  —  youth,  beauty,  grace,  and  '  terrible  daring.' 
He  is  conspicuously  the  subject  for  the  sculptor,  who  would  translate  into 
stone  the  spirit  of  aboriginal  life  ;  he  is  equally  the  theme  for  the  painter, 
who  would  illustrate  the  link  between  Humanity  and  Nature  —  for  what 
Undine  in  German  is  to  the  waters,  Uncas  is  to  the  woods.  And  what  Apol- 
lo and  Adonis  are  to  Greek  art,  Uncas  should  be  to  American  inspiration. 
There  is  nothing  like  him,  indeed,  outside  of  Greek  imagination ;  and  we  may 
well  wonder  that  he  has  never  been  accepted  by  art,  either  on  account  of 
his  splendid  personal  qualities,  or  the  typical  character  in  which  he  may  be 
viewed."  The  suggestion  is  a  good  one,  and  Mr.  Eastman  Johnson  or  Mr. 
Winslow  Homer  could  finely  carry  it  out  in  painting,  while  Mr.  J.  Q.  A. 
Ward  or  Mr.  William  R.  O'Donovan  could  do  the  same  in  sculpture. 

Mr.  Johnson  was  born  on  the  29th  of  July,  1824,  in  Lovell,  Maine.     He 

exhibited  in  boyhood  the  usual  symptoms,  and  made  the  usual  crayon-draw- 

•11 


168 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


ino-s.  Iu  1845  he  painted  portraits  in  Washington,  District  of  Columbia,  and 
the  next  year  exercised  himself  over  the  faces  and  figures  of  some  Harvard 
College  professors  and  other  literary  celebrities  in  its  neighborhood.  In  1849 
he  went  to  Europe,  and  shared  the  studio  of  Emanuel  Leutze,  at  Di'isseldorf. 
He  studied  art  four  years  at  the  Hague,  and  then  proceeded  to  Paris.  On 
returning  home,  he  renewed  his  portrait-painting  in  Washington.  In  the  Paris 
Exhibition  of  1878  he  was  represented  by  his  "Corn-Husking,"  which  received 
considerable  attention  from  the  foreign  critics,  one  of  whom,  after  remarking 
that  "  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  United  States,  whose  energies  are 
absorbed  in  opening  out  its  resources,  and  in  the  perhaps  too  feverish  devel- 
opment of  its  trade,  could  compete  Avith  states,  some  of  them  having  schools 
of  painting  the  outcome  of  centuries  of  practice  and  traditions,"  took  the 
opportunity  of  observing  that  "  in  Mr.  Winslow  Homer's  work  we  come  on 
American  ground.  '  Snapping  the  Whip  '  is  a  very  pleasant  little  picture  :  a 
string  of  urchins  are  joined  hand-in-hand,  while  at  the  extreme  end  some  have 
tumbled  on  the  grass ;  we  seem  to  hear  their  shouts  of  laughter — they  at  least 
do  not  take  their  pleasure  sadly.  More  sombre  in  tone  and  sentiment,  but 
not  ungenial,  is  his  '  Visit  from  the  Old  Mistress,'  a  lady  coming  to  see  some 
negro  women  in  their  cabin  ;  the  respectful,  confiding  air  of  the  negresses  and 
the  kindly  consideration  of  their  old  mistress,  show  great  capacity  for  render- 
ing the  more  subtile  emotions.  '  Sunday  Morning  in  Virginia '  is  also  a  negro 
subject,  four  children  learning  their  Bible  lesson,  and  an  old  woman,  with 
truly  pathetic  expression,  quietly  seated  by  them.  These  works  are  small  in 
size,  but  painted  with  largeness  of  manner,  low  in  tone,  and  rich  in  color. 
Another  characteristic  American  scene  is  Mr.  Johnson's  'Corn-Husking,'  which, 
however,  is  little  more  than  a  sketch,  but  full  of  capital  suggestions  of  color 
and  effect.  The  figures  are  arranged  in  two  lines,  with  baskets  before  them, 
all  busily  engaged  in  husking  the  Indian-corn  ;  the  straw  makes  a  golden  car- 
pet, on  which  they  are  relieved  ;  among  the  incidents  is  one  of  the  girl  who 
finds  a  red  ear  of  corn,  whereby  her  lover  may  claim  a  kiss  ;  in  the  back- 
ground  is  (he  farm  ;  tables  are  being  spread,  poultry  forage  in  the  straw — 
altogether  a  more  cheery  scene  could  not  be  imagined." 

Mr.  Johnson's  perception  of  character  is  quick  and  accurate ;  he  does  his 
own    thinking;  lie   prefers  truth  to  melodramatic  effect,  but  seldom  puts  in 


0 

z 

z 
a 
o 
2 

>• 
< 
o 
z 

D 

m 
w 

H 

Z 
< 

o 


s 


1) 


WYA  TT    EA  TON.  ](;<l 

jeopardy  the  popularity  of  a  design;  he  is  patient,  industrious,  and  studious, 
never  deficient  in  feeling,  or  in  command  over  his  resources,  not  always  |icrfect 
in  depth  and  luuiinousness  of  color  or  tone,  but  never  metallic  or  coarse.  He 
has  a  swift,  sure  sense  of  effect  in  composition,  and  his  painting  in  general  is 
solid  and  sound. 


Mr.  Wyatt  Eaton  was  born  in  Philipsburg,  a  small  village  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  inhabitants,  on  Missisquoi  Bay,  a  part  of  Lake  Chainplain,  in  Can- 
ada, on  the  6th  of  May,  1849.  His  parents  were  Americans.  At  the  age 
of  eighteen  he  came  to  New  York  City  iu  order  to  study  drawing  from  the 
antique  iu  the  school  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design.  In  those  days  the 
institution  had  no  regular  professor.  Mr.  Edwin  White,  Mr.  Emanuel  Leutze, 
Mr.  Henry  Peters  Gray,  and  Mr.  George  A.  Baker,  by  turns  furnished  the 
instruction  received  by  the  students,  one  of  the  four  giving  two  weeks'  ser- 
vices, and  theu  being  succeeded  by  another  one.  The  views  and  monitions 
promulgated  by  Mr.  White  were  in  pleasing  contrast  with  the  teachings  of 
Mr.  Leutze,  Mr.  Gray,  and  Mr.  Baker,  each  one  of  whom  also  presented  a  sim- 
ilar contrast  when  in  juxtaposition  with  either  of  the  other  two.  "  Every 
teacher,"  says  Mr.  Eaton,  "  contradicted  every  other  teacher — a  decided  advan- 
tage to  the  pupils,  because  it  made  them  think  for  themselves,  and  threw 
them  upon  their  own  resources."  Having  become  acquainted  with  Mr.  J.  O. 
Eaton,  a  portrait-painter  of  repute  in  the  city,  but  not  a  relative  of  Mr.  Wyatt 
Eaton,  the  latter  entered  his  studio  the  next  year.  During  the  summer  of 
1868  he  painted  portraits  at  his  father's  house  in  Canada.  He  had  already 
been  introduced  in  New  York  to  Mr.  William  Marshall,  the  artist,  whose 
suggestions  and  sympathy  greatly  inspirited  and  otherwise  benefited  him. 
He  continued  to  paint  portraits  in  the  summer  months  in  his  father's  house, 
and  in  1870  produced  his  first  landscape  with  figure — a  picture  called  "  The 
Farmer's  Boy,"  a  youth  standing  on  a  log  in  the  fields,  and  whistling  with 
his  fingers.  In  spite  of  very  natural  crudeness  in  execution,  the  work  dis- 
played true  poetic  feeling  and  pictorial  instincts.  Two  years  afterward  he 
went  to  Europe.  In  London  the  later  landscapes  of  Turner  were  the  source 
of  his  chief  pleasure  and  deepest  inspiration  ;  beside  their  bright,  clear  col<  >rs 


no 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


the  efforts  of  the  old  masters  in  the  National  Gallery  seemed  dark  and  discol- 
ored. He  drank  full  draughts  from  that  Pierian  spring.  The  works  of  Mr. 
Whistler  also,  especially  their  decorative  qualities,  attracted  him  strongly,  and 
the  courtesies  accorded  him  by  that  artist  were  very  helpful  and  opportune. 
The  renewed  sight  of  the  old  masters  in  the  Louvre  awakened  his  profound 
admiration.  In  pursuance  of  his  original  intention,  he  entered  the  atelier  of 
Gerome  (in  the  Ecole  des  Beaux-Arts),  a  room  about  fifty  feet  square  opening 
from  an  anteroom  used  for  the  hanging  of  hats  and  overcoats  and  for  the 
study  of  the  antique.  Gerome  went  there  twice  a  week  during  the  season, 
and  staid  an  hour  at  each  visit,  criticising  the  performances  of  about  sixty 
pupils.  When  the  composition  was  a  large  one,  too  large  to  be  brought  con- 
veniently to  the  atelier,  he  went  to  the  student's  own  studio,  and  examined  it 
there,  charging,  of  course,  nothing  for  his  services  in  either  place.  Mr.  Eaton 
began  to  draw  from  life,  and,  at  the  end  of  six  months,  to  paint.  During  the 
winter  he  became  acquainted  for  the  first  time  with  the  works  of  Corot,  Millet, 
Diaz,  Rousseau,  and  Dupre — and  was  allured  to  Barbizon,  a  village  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  forest  of  Fontainebleau,  because  Millet  lived  there.  Half 
of  his  time  for  the  next  four  years  was  spent  in  and  near  Millet's  house.  Ge- 
rome he  respected  as  a  great  teacher  of  technique  ;  Millet  he  reverenced  as  a 
great  master  of  art. 

Before  going  into  the  country,  Mr.  Eaton  had  begun  a  picture — a  group 
of  two  peasant-women  and  a  child — which  he  finished  in  Paris  the  next  win- 
ter. In  Barbizon  he  was  attracted  more  by  the  cultivated  fields  than  by  the 
forest ;  and  it  was  not  until  a  few  days  previous  to  the  end  of  his  first  summer 
there  that  he  mustered  courage  to  call  upon  Millet,  who  received  him  with 
peculiar  warmth.  "  I  found  as  much  to  admire  in  the  man,"  says  Mr.  Eaton, 
"  as  I  had  found  in  his  works.  His  studio  was  unlike  any  other  I  ever  saw, 
except  John  La  Farge's ;  there  had  been  less  attempt  to  make  a  studio ;  his 
pictures  in  it  were  all  turned  to  the  wall,  except  the  one  that  stood  on  the 
easel  ;  he  would  not  be  diverted  by  them.  The  few  that  were  visible  were 
panels  of  the  earliest  Flemish  school,  and  several  casts  of  the  Egyptian  antique 
and  the  Renaissance.  The  room  was  almost  like  the  interior  of  a  barn  ;  a 
yard  separated  the  building  from  the  artist's  house.  Millet  was  then  for  the 
lir-t  time  at  his  ease  financially,  though  In;  was  not  yet  able  to  live  in  advance 


WYA  TT    EA  TON.  171 

of  his  work — up  to  the  hour  of  his  death,  in  1875,  he  was  living  on  money 
advanced  to  him  on  the  pictures  he  was  painting,  and  most  of  these  wen- 
orders  received  several  years  previous  when  his  prices  were  comparatively 
small.  His  deportment  was  quiet,  even,  and  unaffected,  and,  except  when  he 
was  brought  out  by  a  question  concerning  something  that  especially  interested 
him,  or  was  annoyed  by  the  presence  of  an  antagonistic  idea,  he  talked  very 
little.  His  aim  was  art ;  the  peasants  that  he  happened  to  see  in  ear]y  life 
were  the  subjects  of  his  pictures,  but  he  would  have  been  equally  at  home 
with  any  other  subjects.  He  sought  for  expression  rather  in  attitudes  than  in 
faces — the  largeness  of  his  art  so  led  him." 

In  those  summer  evenings  at  Barbizon  Mr.  Eaton  was  a  frequent  and  wel- 
come visitor  at  the  artist's  house,  one  of  the  artist's  sons  being  his  friend. 
The  party  played  dominoes,  and  occasionally  discussed,  in  direct  and  simple 
fashion,  the  province  and  the  trophies  of  pictorial  art.  Almost  every  meeting 
with  Millet  is  marked  with  a  white  mark  in  his  pupil's  memory. 

The  winters  in  Paris  brought  him  again  under  the  instruction  of  Gerome. 
In  1874  he  painted  his  "Reverie'' — a  woman  leaning  against  the  mantel,  her 
face  in  full  light  and  reflected  in  the  mirror — and  exhibited  it  in  the  Salon 
that  year.  "  After  that  I  did  all  sorts  of  things,  made  studies  of  landscapes, 
designs  for  pictures,  spending  a  great  deal  of  time  in  doing  nothing — begin- 
ning, throwing  aside,  experimenting  in  general." 

In  the  spring  of  1875  he  began  to  make  studies  for  his  "  Harvesters  at 
Rest,"  which  we  have  engraved,  and  in  the  spring  of  the  next  j'ear  painted  the 
picture.  The  growth  of  this  work  was  in  this  wise  :  First,  the  artist  made  a 
preliminary  sketch  just  as  he  was  leaving  Paris  for  his  summer  stay  in  Barbi- 
zon. The  subject  he  had  had  in  mind  for  several  years,  and  had  intended  to 
express  it  in  a  scene  in  the  interior  of  a  house  into  which  a  laborer,  after  his 
day's  toil,  was  entering,  while  his  wife,  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  was  waiting 
to  welcome  him.  During  the  harvest  of  the  previous  season,  however,  a  scene 
in  a  wheat-field  had  induced  him  to  carry  out  the  idea  in  the  open  air  instead 
of  within-doors.  On  arriving  at  Barbizon,  he  began  to  make  studies  in  color 
and  drawings  for  the  picture — in  rye-fields,  so  it  happened,  whose  appear- 
ance is  not  dissimilar  to  that  of  wheat-fields — all  the  studies  and  drawings 
being  in  hand  simultaneously,  some  of  them  being  very  slight  and  meagre ; 

42 


172 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


others,  like  the  study  of  the  distant  village,  elaborate.  The  picture  was 
a  composition  throughout,  and,  while  no  part  of  it  was  a  literal  transcript, 
every  part  was  founded  upon  a  separate  study  from  Nature.  The  peasant's 
foot,  as  seen  in  the  painting,  was  the  result  of  very  careful  preparation,  Mr. 
Eaton  having  examined  many  of  the  best  Tuodels  in  Paris,  after  trying  unsuc- 
cessfully among  the  peasantry  of  Barbizon.  When  he  had  become  discour- 
aged he  mentioned  the  fact  to  a  friend,  who  at  once  pulled  off  his  boot  and 
asked,  "How'll  mine  do  ?"  The  friend's  foot  was  just  the  model  he  had  been 
wishing  for :  it  met  his  idea  with  respect  to  pedal  character,  and  it  also  ena- 
bled him  to  get  the  desired  movement.  He  made  a  thorough  study  of  it,  and 
used  it  in  the  picture.  Of  the  peasants  in  Barbizon  he  made  a  great  variety 
of  studies,  and,  when  the  weather  began  to  be  cold,  returned  to  Paris,  with  his 
abundant  materials,  and  occupied  himself  with  the  composition  and  drawing 
until  February,  when  he  proceeded  to  paint,  having  already  devoted  the  best 
part  of  nine  months  to  preliminary  and  preparatory  work.  In  five  weeks  more 
it  was  finished — finished,  at  last,  on  the  very  day  appointed  for  receiving  contri- 
butions to  the  Salon,  where  both  Americans  and  Europeans  greeted  it  warmly. 
Mr.  Eaton  did  not  take  the  scene  as  a  whole  directly  from  Nature,  as  he  might 
have  done,  because  the  harvest-season  was  so  short,  and  the  aspect  of  the  fields 
changed  greatly  every  few  hours.  Having  resolved  to  paint  his  landscape 
from  studies,  he  determined  to  paint  his  figures  also  from  studies,  for  the  sake 
of  a  more  nearly  perfect  unity  and  harmony.  Mr.  Eaton's  laborious,  pro- 
longed, and  intelligent  preparation  for  this  picture  of  the  "  Harvesters  at 
Rest"  is  exceedingly  interesting,  exemplary,  and  suggestive. 

To  the  New  York  Academy  Exhibition  of  1875  Mr.  Eaton  sent  his  "Reve- 
rie," the  hanging  committee  refusing  one  of  his  landscapes  with  figures,  which 
two  years  afterward  was  accepted  by  another  hanging  committee  in  the  same 
place.  He  returned  to  Canada  in  the  summer  of  1876,  after  an  absence  in  Europe 
of  four  years,  and  painted  portraits  in  Montreal.  While  on  a  visit  to  New  York 
City  in  January,  1877,  he  was  offered  the  position  of  instructor  in  drawing  in 
the  schools  of  the  Cooper  Institute,  an  offer  which  he  gladly  accepted  because 
it  enabled  him  to  widen  the  range  of  his  opportunities  for  study,  and  to  in- 
crease the  sympathy  of  his  environment.  Early  in  1878  he  made  a  portrait- 
drawing  of  the  late  Mr.  William  Cullen  Bryant,  who  gave  him  eight  or  nine 


W  YATT    EA  TON. 


173 


sittings.  The  work  was  an  order  from  /Scribner's  Magazine,  was  engraved  for 
that  periodical  by  the  artist  Cole,  and  is  said  to  have  been  pronounced  by  the 
most  intimate  friends  of  the  poet  the  best  portrait  of  him  ever  produced.  His 
latest  pictures  are  portrait-drawings  of  Longfellow,  Emerson,  and  Whittier, 
made  at  their  homes  in  Cambridge,  Concord,  and  Danvers,  Massachusetts.  His 
portrait-drawing  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  from  a  photograph,  was  also  published 
in  Scribner's.  "  In  Mr.  Bryant's  portrait,"  says  Mr.  Eaton,  "  I  aimed  to  give 
prominence  to  the  principal  fact  of  his  character,  to  reproduce  that  which  was 
most  really  Bryant,  to  portray  the  real  form  of  his  head,  and  the  life  that 
issued  from  his  eyes.  Everything  was  kept  subordinate  to  the  sense  of  that 
life  ;  every  detail  of  the  hair  and  the  flesh  was  generalized ;  hardly  a  wrinkle 
in  the  face  was  preserved — only  enough  to  convey  the  impression  of  age.  The 
effort  was,  along  with  the  generalization,  carefully  to  set  forth  the  individuality 
of  the  man.  I  find  myself  more  in  sympathy  with  sculptors  than  with  paint- 
ers. Imitative  painting  I  have  no  fancy  for :  and  the  painting  of  stuffs,  bric-a- 
brac,  and  so  forth,  would  be  a  burden.  I  like,  most  of  all,  bare  Nature,  the 
human  form,  landscapes,  and  effects  of  light  and  atmosphere.  Art  should  take 
real  Nature,  and  carry  it  out  with  simplicity  and  directness  in  the  perfection 
of  type,  giving  it  meanwhile  all  the  qualities  of  grace  and  decorative  effect." 

Mr.  Eaton  was  the  principal  founder  and  one  of  the  first  four  members  of 
the  American  Art  Association,  which  afterward  became  the  Society  of  Ameri- 
can Artists,  and  concerning  which  this  place  is  perhaps  as  convenient  as  any 
other  for  saying  a  word.  The  occasion  of  the  new  organization  was  a  certain 
act  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design.  That  institution,  in  view  of  what  to 
it  seemed  to  have  been  a  partiality  on  the  part  of  the  hanging  committee  of 
1877  for  a  few  of  our  younger  painters  who  had  been  or  were  studying  in  Eu- 
rope, passed  a  law  to  the  effect  that  thereafter  in  every  annual  exhibition  eight 
feet  of  line  should  be  reserved  for  the  works  of  each  Academician — eight  feet 
at  least,  and  as  many  more  as  a  hanging  committee  should  see  fit  to  allow. 
The  law,  indeed,  was  very  wisely  repealed  soon  afterward,  but  its  animus 
could  not  be  forgotten  by  those  to  whom  it  was  odious.  To  them  it  was  the 
incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  persecution.  The  reign  of  justice,  they  thought, 
was  over.  The  Academy  intended  to  take  care  of  itself,  letting  outsiders  eat 
of  the  crumbs  that  fell  from  the  Academicians'  table.     The  pride  of  the  out- 


174 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


siders  was  touched.  Their  strength  they  knew,  because  the  public  had  ad- 
mired their  pictures,  and  the  press  had  praised  them.  "  Why  not  have  a  show 
of  our  own  \ "  they  asked.  Four  of  them,  Mr.  Wyatt  Eaton,  Mr.  Walter  Shir- 
law,  Mr.  Augustus  St.  Gaudens,  and  Mrs.  Helena  De  Kay  Gilder,  met  in  Mrs. 
Gilder's  studio  in  Fifteenth  Street,  New  York  City,  on  the  1st  of  June,  1877. 
and  organized  the  American  Art  Association.  In  conjunction  with  the  Ameri- 
can artists  in  Paris,  they  appointed  a  committee  of  judges  in  that  city,  who 
should  accept  or  reject  every  painting  or  piece  of  sculpture  there  offered  to  the 
exhibition  in  this  city.  Their  object  was,  least  of  all,  to  ingraft  foreign  art 
upon  American  art.     They  adopted  the  following  resolutions  : 

"  Resolved,  That  an  Association  be  formed  by  those  present,  with  the  object  of  advanc- 
ing the  interests  of  art  in  America,  the  same  to  be  entitled  '  The  American  Art  Associa- 
tion.' 

'•  Resolved,  That  the  Association  hold  animal  and  special  exhibitions  of  paintings, 
sculpture,  and  other  works  of  art,  and  that  the  first  exhibition  be  held  in  the  city  of  New 
York  during  the  coming  winter." 

Mr.  Olin  S.  Warner,  Mr.  R.  Swain  Gifford,  Mr.  Frederick  Dielman,  Mr. 
Albert  P.  Ryder,  Mr.  Louis  C.  Tiffany,  Mr.  Francis  Lathrop,  Mr.  Homer  Mar- 
tin, Mr.  John  La  Farge,  Mr.  Thomas  Moran,  Mr.  J.  Alden  Weir,  Mr.  W.  H. 
Low,  Mr.  William  Sartain,  Mr.  Samuel  Colman,  Mr.  George  Inness,  Mr.  A. 
H.  Wyaut,  and  a  few  others,  were  elected  members,  a  principal  bond  of  union 
being  the  reverence  felt  for  the  earlier  Italian  masters  and  the  early  Spanish, 
Flemish,  and  Dutch  painters.  "  We  are  all  of  us,"  said  one  of  them,  "  real 
admirers  of  the  old  masters ;  while  the  typical  National  Academician  admires 
Lambinet,  Bouguereau,  Cabanel,  Delaroche,  Meyer  von  Bremen,  and  such  men 
as  Guido  Reui  and  Murillo."  Their  first  exhibition  began  on  the  4th  of 
March,  1878,  and  was  a  surprise  and  a  success. 


Mr.  A.  D.  Shatttick  was  born  in  Francestown,  New  Hampshire,  on  the  9th 
of  March,  1832.  He  painted  the  usual  number  of  portraits,  and  entered  the 
school  of  the  National  Academy  in  New  York  City.  His  principal  works  are 
landscapes  with  sheep  and  cattle,  and  sea-coast  and  lake  scenes.     They  are 


s 

<0 

< 
w 

ci 

ir; 

h 

^ 

U) 

5. 

■S^ 

W 

I 

h 

"is 

>■ 

$ 

JOHN   F.     WEIR.  175 

realistic  in  treatment,  nice  in  feeling,  placid  in  spirit,  and  excellent  in  the  pre- 
vailing impression  made  by  their  rich  verdure  of  foregrounds  and  cool  stretches 
of  meadow.  Mr.  Shattuck  has  painted  sheep  with  unusual  success,  and,  un- 
like Verboeckhoven,  without  loss  of  truth  and  simplicity. 


Mr.  John  F.  Weir,  a  son  of  Professor  Robert  W.  Weir,  is  at  the  head  of 
the  Yale  School  of  Fine  Arts.  His  best-known  paintings  are  "  Casting  the 
Shaft,"  "  Lago  Maggiore,"  "  The  Confessional,"  "  The  Column  of  St.  Mark, 
Venice,"  and  "  The  Culprit  Fay."  He  wrote  an  official  critical  report  on  the 
pictures  in  the  Centennial  Exhibition,  and  contributed  to  the  Princeton  Re- 
view for  May,  1878,  a  paper  entitled  "  American  Art,  its  Progress  and  Pros- 
pects," from  which  the  following  extract  is  taken  :  "  We  have  seen  Americans 
settling  abroad  as  artists,  not  for  purposes  of  study,  but  that  they  may  bask 
in  what  they  are  pleased  to  term  '  a  congenial  art-atmosphere.'  .  .  .  The  very 
choice  of  subjects  engaging  the  attention  of  many  of  these  artists  grows  out 
of  a  sort  of  epicurean  dilettanteism.  And  how  should  it  be  otherwise — for 
are  they  not  removed  out  of  the  flow  of  vital  conditions  in  which  they  were 
born  and  reared  ?  Art  does  not  consist  of  merely  picturescpie  conceptions  of 
costume ;  of  painted  contadinas  decked  in  spangles  and  ribbons  ;  nor  is  its 
truest  function  the  merely  intellectual,  carefully  wrought-out  stories  of  times 
out  of  mind,  full  of  interesting  archaeological  research,  but  no  longer  accepted 
with  the  faith  and  conviction  that  are  essential  to  art.  A  panathenaic  proces- 
sion had  once  a  meaning  for  the  Athenians,  kindling  a  glow  on  their  cheeks 
and  sending  the  life-blood  bounding  through  their  veins  on  those  serene  morn- 
ings  in  Greece ;  but  we  can  only  understand  this  through  our  intellectual  sym- 
pathies coldly  awakened.  It  has  no  intensity  of  meaning  for  us,  no  real  hold 
on  the  heart,  no  faith,  no  hope,  no  promise.  Our  lines  of  art  cannot  enwreath 
these  glad  forms  with  that  tenderness  and  pathos  which  doubtless  caused  the 
Greek  artist's  hand  to  tremble  with  suppressed  delight  as  he  chiseled  them  in 
marble.  We  look  in  upon  all  this  '  askance  and  strangely,'  not  really  under- 
standing it,  but  pretending  to  a  sympathy  we  do  not,  cannot  feel. 

"  And  the  same  may  be  said  of  our  modern  mediaevalists.  We  cannot 
revive  that  peculiar  religious  fervor  which  found  natural  and   spontaneous 


176  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

expression  in  the  ecclesiastical  art  and  symbolism  of  the  middle  ages.  If  we 
affect  this,  it  becomes  mere  sentimentality — an  intellectual  sentimentality  it 
may  be,  but  none  the  less  removed  from  true  sentiment,  however  curious  and 
learned.  In  art  it  will  not  do  to  let  the  intellect  work  without  the  heart. 
The  feelings,  the  impulses,  the  passions,  these  are  at  the  root  of  all  true  art, 
as  they  are  the  moving,  underlying  energies  of  life  itself.  We  cannot  doubt 
that  human  life  has  everywhere,  now  as  in  times  past  —  in  America  as  in 
Greece,  as  in  Italy,  as  in  France — all  the  requisites  for  great  art.  If  the  art- 
instinct  be  properly  directed — not  to  seeking  in  Nature  for  that  which  corre- 
sponds to  our  preconceived  notions  of  what  makes  a  picture,  but  rather  with 
the  conviction  that  what  interests  us  in  Nature  will  surely  interest  us  in  the 
picture,  and  make  the  picture,  in  spite  of  all  that  may  be  said  about  masters, 
and  schools,  and  discipline,  and  method,  and  vehicle,  and  what  not,  which 
have  their  place  but  not  the  preeminence.  While  the  earnestness  and  study 
that  are  directed  to  technical  acquirements  are  sure  to  perfect  these  means  and 
render  them  attractive,  yet,  for  the  real  advancement  of  American  art,  we 
must  look  to  those  who,  while  they  value  the  means  of  pictorial  art,  direct 
their  principal  earnestness  and  study  to  seeking  those  higher  values  in  char- 
acter and  beauty  which  have  far  greater  significance  for  those  who  constitute 
the  great  body  of  lovers  of  art,  and  who  form  the  true  audience  of  the  artist ; 
otherwise,  we  must  take  the  ground  that  poetry  is  not  for  the  people,  but  for 
the  grammarian,  who  can  dissect  the  verse  and  designate  its  quantities.  Art  is 
not  alone  for  artists,  but  for  man ;  and  it  is  needless  to  add  that  man,  in  the 
most  intelligent  sense,  knows  where  to  place  the  preeminence.  Let  the  artis- 
tic insight  search  deeply  into  Nature  and  human  action,  and  it  will  find  pict- 
ures in  stones — certainly  in  that  toil  and  labor  which  consecrate  and  render 
even  religious,  as  well  as  beautiful,  such  simple  subjects  as  engaged  the  art  of 
Jean  Francois  Millet,  who,  while  he  took  Nature  for  his  model,  did  not  mis- 
take his  model  —  if  he  ever  employed  one  —  for  Nature.  Our  own  life  is 
equally  teeming  with  similar  subjects,  perhaps  less  happily  clothed  with 
quaintness,  but  far  more  worthy  of  engaging  the  thought  of  the  painter  than 
that  'picturesque  material'  which  is  often  so  cleverly  and  gracefully  disposed 
in  the  pictures  and  workshops  of  inferior  artists.  The  aesthetic  should  doubt- 
less have  its  place,  but  the  deeper  impulses  should  likewise  manifest  them- 


< 
I 

m 
w 

X 
h 

0 

z 

h 
in 

< 


S 


43 


WILL  J  J  .1/     /'.I  QE.  177 

selves  iu  art,  if  it  is  to  have  any  permanent  hold  on  the  affections  or  on  the 
mind.  Our  older  artists  have  not  all  lost  sight  of  this,  and  in  the  work  of 
some  few  of  the  younger  men  there  is  evidence  of  its  hearty  recognition." 


The  honored  name  of  William  Page  may  fitly  end  the  series  of  American 
painters  whose  works  are  illustrated  in  this  volume.  For  some  months  Mr. 
Page  has  been  an  invalid  at  his  home  on  Staten  Island  ;  and  the  brush  which 
so  often  has  charmed  us  from  our  wearied  selves,  and  been  a  torch  to  enkindle 
our  nobler  sentiments,  is  laid  aside.  Mi'.  Page  was  born  in  Albany,  New 
York,  on  the  23d  of  January,  1811,  and,  when  eight  years  old,  he  came  to 
New  York  City.  After  studying  law  and  theology  in  succession,  he  entered 
the  studio  of  the  late  Professor  S.  F.  B.  Morse,  and  in  early  manhood  went  to 
Italy.  In  Venice,  in  1853,  he  became  a  disciple  of  Titian,  and  ever  since  that 
time  has  studied,  expounded,  and  reverenced  that  master.  "  He  has  the  same 
traits  as  Titian,"  says  one  critic.  "  The  laws  which  Titian  discovered  have 
been  unheeded  for  centuries,"  says  another,  "  and  might  have  remained  so  had 
not  the  mind  of  William  Page  felt  the  necessity  of  their  revival  and  use." 
His  copy  of  Titian's  "  Portrait  of  Himself"  is  one  of  his  most  representative 
works. 

Mr.  Page  is  preeminently  a  portrait-painter,  and  to  8cribner''s  Magazine  for 
September,  1875,  he  contributed  an  article  on  "The  Study  of  Shakespeare's 
Portraits,"  iu  which  he  laid  down,  as  follows,  some  principles  of  portrait-paint- 
ing :  "If  I  am  accused,"  he  said,  "  of  too  microscopic  regard  of  this  face "  (the 
Kesselstadt  mask  of  Shakespeare),  "  I  must  reply,  '  Nature  is  not  less  in  leasts ; 
and  the  portrait-painter  knows  that  many  littles  make  a  mickle.'  Even  up 
toward  the  highest  art  Nature  submits  to  rule  and  compass.  Geometry  is  a 
never-failing  guide  and  friend,  which  Phidias  and  Titian  never  forsook  as  long 
as  it  was  able  to  lead  them.  Leonardo's  excellent  color  and  chiaw-oscuro  are 
somewhat  fettered  by  his  immense  scientific  knowledge,  and,  beside  Titian's, 
suggest  to  a  sensitive  eye  the  gradations  of  stairs  rather  than  the  infinite  and 
immeasurable  more  and  less  of  the  light  from  a  lens,  with  the  pulsating  undu- 
lations which  Nature  shows,  and  which  come  and  go — a  mere  suspect  of  which 
must  be  set  down   in  imitative   art,  and  not  a  permanent  fixture.     Titian's 


178  AMERICAN    PAIXTERS. 

geometry  is  as  faithful  and  true  as  Leonardo's,  but  less  obtrusive  and  more 
honest,  and  well  to  be  trusted  in  the  dark.  The  art  of  hiding  art  here  cul- 
minates, or,  as  I  should  say,  the  art  of  hiding  science.  But,  if  in  a  portrait  or 
other  work  of  art  geometry  and  all  science  are  confounded,  and  art  itself, 
which  we  will  now  call  imitation  of  Nature,  shows  feeble  vitality,  the  result  is 
pitiful  indeed.  I  would  always  urge  the  observance  of  the  eleventh  command- 
ment, even  in  art :  to  make  friends  with  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness;  so, 
if  the  artist  fail  in  all  his  higher  aims,  he  may  finally  turn  to  the  friendly 
homes  of  geometry,  and  at  last  be  received  into  its  houses.  Between  science 
and  art  there  is  the  relation  of  cook  and  roaster.  The  trade  of  the  first  can  be 
learned,  that  of  the  other  must  be  born  into. 

"  Art  begins  where  geometry  ends.  .  .  .  Portraiture  is  the  cable  that  holds 
the  argosies  of  all  the  arts  fast  to  the  land  of  fact.  Look  into  the  eyes  of 
Shakespeare  in  his  portraits ;  look  into  his  heart  in  the  sonnets ;  feel  the 
rhythm  of  his  head ;  see  his  thought  and  life  in  his  plays — and  the  pious  im- 
agination feels  little  lack  of  his  real  presence.  .  .  .  The  best  bee  builds  her 
cell  by  the  rule  of  her  instinctive  law,  and  it  is  more  perfect  than  we  busy- 
bodies  could  devise.  .  .  .  The  order  of  Nature  is  fixed  in  portraits  as  in  plan- 
ets ;  while  the  friar  friends  of  science  worked  the  rack,  the  planets  moved  on, 
abashed  neither  by  old  doubters  nor  new  observers.  Truth  is  light  as  day ;  it 
is  we  who  are  blind,  whom  Mother  Nature  waits  for  to  come  to  maturity,  to 
see  us  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  seeing  what  the  Creator  made  to  please  himself. 
.  .  .  Art  is  not  the  pastime  of  great  men.  .  .  A  true  likeness  shows  one  in- 
side out ;  the  leopard  does  not  change  the  spot  of  the  heart.  Its  color  is  set 
on  the  palette,  and  is  the  least  refrangible  one  in  our  spectrum.  The  soul  is 
photographed  on  the  face.  If  one  has  the  gift  to  develop  it  by  the  processes 
of  imitative  art,  the  world  is  so  much  the  richer  for  the  result.  The  great  por- 
traits of  Raphael  and  Titian  are  soul  tale-bearers  no  less  than  the  terza  rima 
of  Dante  or  the  '  Sonnets '  of  Shakespeare.  .  .  .  The  life  and  works  of  Dante 
tally  with  his  face.  In  the  face  of  Cromwell  the  great  frontal  base  of  his 
brain,  as  left  in  his  mask,  and  the  power  of  his  lower  jaw,  are  the  upper  and 
nether  millstones  of  his  history.  A  true  portrait  is  that  incorrigible  page  of 
history  which  neither  justice  nor  mercy  invalidates.  It  is  the  dead-level  of 
man  amid  fluctuating  fashion  and  fickle  opinion.     God  made  man  in  his  own 


FARRAGUT     IN     THE     SHROUDS     OF     THE     HARTFORD. 
From  a  Painting  by    William  Page. 


p.  1T8. 


WILL/AM    PA  OE.  179 

human  image.  So  the  soul  creates  its  outer  shell  in  likeness  to  itself.  If  the 
man  is  hid  in  his  stature,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  artist  to  pick  him  out." 

A  few  years  ago  Balzac  exclaimed  that  he  was  ashamed  of  French  painters 
because  their  ignorance  of  the  science  of  colors  had  caused  their  pictures  to 
fade.  "  Mon  portrait  par  Boulanger,"  he  wrote,  "  est  devenu  la  croute  la  plus 
hideuse  qu'il  soit  possible  de  voir ;  les  couleurs  etaient  ou  mauvaises  ou  mal 
combinees,  et  c'est  tout  noir,  c'est  affreux  !  Nous  n'avons  plus  des  peintres." 
A  portrait  by  one  of  the  Scottish  painters  is  said  recently  to  have  been  taken 
from  its  position  in  the  London  National  Gallery,  transferred  to  a  storeroom 
and  hung  upside-down  in  order  to  let  the  eyes  in  it  run  back  to  their  normal 
place.  They  had  melted  and  were  flowing.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  the 
greens  in  some  of  Ruysdael's  and  Hobbema's  landscapes  have  changed  into 
black,  giving  to  these  works  their  so-called  "  melancholy  sentiment."  Some 
of  Mr.  Page's  pictures,  too,  have  lost  color,  or  begun  to  peel,  the  reason  being 
that  he  has  been  fond  of  making  all  sorts  of  experiments  in  the  mixing  of 
pigments. 

The  City  Hall,  in  New  York,  contains  Page's  portrait  of  Governor  Marcy, 
and  the  Boston  Athenaeutn  one  of  his  "  Holy  Families."  In  the  New  York 
Historical  Society's  rooms  hangs  his  "  Ruth  and  Naomi."  The  late  Mr.  Evert 
A.  Duyckinck  owned  one  of  his  sweet  pictures  of  children.  His  own  portrait 
of  himself  is  one  of  his  most  artistic  and  thorough  performances,  and  so  is  his 
portrait  of  Shakespeare,  from  the  Kesselstadt  mask,  and  his  portrait  of  Wash- 
ington from  the  Houdon  cast.  His  "  Farragut  in  the  Shrouds  of  the  Hart- 
ford  "  deserves  a  place  in  the  national  Capitol.  His  "  Head  of  Christ,"  which 
presents  the  features  of  a  Galilean  Jew,  and  was  intended  so  to  do,  is  in  the 
gallery  of  Mr.  Theodore  Tilton.  He  has  painted  hundreds  of  portraits  of 
men  and  women  in  public  and  private  life.  For  some  years  he  was  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  National  Academy  of  Design. 

Mr.  William  R.  O'Donovan,  the  sculptor,  an  intimate  personal  friend  of 
Mr.  Page,  says,  in  a  letter  to  the  writer :  "  You  wish  me  to  give  you  some 
recollections  of  Page,  but,  looking  back  over  the  years  in  which  it  has  been 
my  good  fortune  to  know  him  well,  it  seems  hard  to  say  anything  that  will 
convey  even  an  approximate  idea  of  the  most  individualized  person  with 
whom  I  ever  came  in  contact.     Few,  I  think,  have  known  him  well,  or  been 


180  AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 

able  to  form  a  just  conception  of  his  character,  for  the  reason  that  he  is  ex- 
tremely sensitive  to  the  influences  of  what  may  be  called  individual  magne- 
tism. Even  those  who  have  seen  much  of  him  for  many  years  have,  owing  to 
a  lack  of  adaptability  on  either  side,  been  shut  out  from  the  knowledge  of 
some  of  the  most  essential  phases  of  his  character,  and  led  to  form  opinions 
entirely  erroneous.  A  man,  all  whose  energies  have  for  a  long  lifetime  been 
devoted  to  pursuits  with  which  people  at  large  have  little  knowledge  or  sym- 
pathy, is  apt  to  shut  himself  up  within  himself  to  such  an  extent  as  to  render 
it  almost  impossible  to  express,  to  others  than  those  who  have  the  capability 
of  losing  themselves  for  the  time  being,  any  really  vital  part  of  himself.  That 
continuous  contact  with  the  world,  through  which  one  may  keep  upon  its 
plane  and  express  one's  self  to  it,  is  a  thing  to  which  Page  has  been,  within 
my  knowledge  of  him,  greatly  averse — possibly  unduly  so.  He  has  not  been 
in  the  habit  of  going  much  outside  the  rather  limited  circle  of  his  intimate 
artist-friends ;  not  because  of  any  lack  of  social  qualities  or  wide  sympathies, 
but  because  his  devotion  to  his  own  studies  is  the  strongest  part  of  his  nature. 
To  those  with  whom  he  is  in  sympathy  no  one  can  be  more  communica- 
tive or  interesting,  but  upon  many  persons  even  of  intelligence  and  education 
his  conversation  would  have  little  effect,  for  the  reason  that  it  is  the  outcome 
of  a  nature  essentially  spiritual,  and  lacking  in  that  sensuous  quality  through 
which  the  widest  and  most  effective  medium  of  communication  is  furnished. 
The  lack  of  this  quality  will,  too,  I  think,  explain  why  a  painter  of  so  emi- 
nent abilities,  as  almost  all  artists  will  concede  to  Page,  has  gained  so  little 
popular  appreciation,  and  why  many  of  his  works  have  provoked  so  bitter 
controversy.  For  persons  without  any  great  spiritual  apprehension  his  pict- 
ures have  little  meaning,  although  his  'Head  of  Christ'  and  his  'Venus'  may 
be  cited  as  examples  to  the  contrary.  They  are  certainly  sensuous — that  is, 
they  have  the  quality  of  sensuousuess  which  is  arrived  at  through  the  intellect 
rather  than  through  the  feelings,  and  which  verges  so  nearly  on  sensuality  as 
to  be  extremely  offensive  to  certain  organizations.  But,  after  this  repulsion 
has  spent  itself,  the  works  attract  even  more  strongly  than  at  first  they  re- 
pelled. How  much  an  artist  should  subject  himself  to  the  influences  of  the 
great  current  of  every-day  affairs  is  certainly  a  question  of  very  grave  im- 
portance ;  for  while,  on  the  one  hand,  these  influences  must  have  a  leveling 


WILLIAM    PAGE. 


181 


effect,  on  the  other  they  have  certain  healthy  corrective  properties  that,  if  judi- 
ciously used,  cannot  fail  to  be  of  great  benefit  to  the  artistic  temperament, 
which  tends  too  often  to  isolation.  The  artist  should  certainly  keep  a  means 
of  passage  from  the  real  to  the  ideal,  from  the  objective  to  the  subjective,  so 
that  his  work  may  have  strong  hold  upon  the  people  of  his  own  time,  and 
offer  to  them  a  revelation  of  those  remoter  qualities  of  Nature  which  it  is 
his  special  province  to  see  and  to  express;  but  the  temptation  is  always 
greater  to  render  Nature  as  it  appears  to  the  uninspired  and  untrained  eye  of 
the  average  man,  than  to  seek  for  the  expression  of  cpialities  which  give  to  his 
work  a  permanent  value.  Certainly  it  cannot  be  said  of  Page  that  he  has  in 
any  sense  sacrificed  truth,  as  he  saw  it,  for  the  sake  of  popularity,  and  of  that 
material  success  which  follows  always  in  its  wake.  Where  he  has  erred,  it 
has  been  in  the  opposite  direction.  For  example,  he  has  always  held  that  flesh 
can  be  rendered  truthfully  onby  in  a  much  lower  key  of  color  than  is  used  by 
most  artists ;  and,  in  adhering  to  his  convictions  in  this  respect,  has  sacrificed 
much  more  than  most  men  would  care  to  have  done.  Pictures  painted  in  so 
low  a  key,  when  hung  upon  the  walls  of  our  badly-lighted  houses,  can  scarcely 
be  seen  ;  but  he  has  always  held  that  they  should  not  be  falsely  painted  be- 
cause houses  are  badly  lighted.  Again,  his  famous  portrait  of  Mrs.  Crawford, 
the  wife  of  the  sculptor,  painted  in  Rome  some  twenty  years  or  more  ago,  was 
subjected  to  much  criticism  by  the  artists  there,  because,  as  they  said,  the 
paintings  of  the  old  masters  had  been  in  a  higher  key,  which  had  lowered 
with  age.  The  venerable  sculptor  Gibson,  however,  being  appealed  to  in  the 
matter,  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  it  was  well  to  have  a  picture  right  once.  I 
certainly  cannot  but  agree  with  Page  that,  if  it  is  necessary  to  paint  falsely 
with  the  expectation  that  time  will  right  the  matter,  painting  is  a  useless  and 
trifling  art,  which  ought  at  once  to  be  abandoned.  Many  painters,  I  know, 
hold  that  Page's  manner  of  painting  is  entirely  too  methodical ;  but  to  me 
it  seems  perfectly  logical,  and  in  no  way  calculated  to  cramp  or  smother 
the  use  of  all  the  creative  faculties,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  facilitate  their  use. 
His  canvas  is  always  prepared  in  a  middle  tint,  between  light  and  dark,  the 
picture  being  drawn  in  and  modeled  in  black-and-white,  and  the  flesh  grad- 
ually worked  up  into  color  that  seems  very  red  and  raw,  until  toned  by  a 
glaze  of  yellow.      His  method,  which  I  am  incapable  of  giving  with  any 

44 


|v' 


AMERICAN    PAINTERS. 


amount  of  fullness,  is  what  he  holds  io  have  been  the  method  of  Titian,  and 
the  only  method  capable  of  the  highest  results  in  pictorial  art.  However  this 
may  be,  his  painting  of  flesh  seems  to  me,  with  my  limited  knowledge  of  color, 
to  be  the  most  adequate  solution  of  the  painter's  most  difficult  problem  that 
Las  been  attained  by  any  modern  artist  with  whose  works  I  am  familiar. 
The  o-reat  principle  of  reserve  in  art  upon  which  Page  always  strenuously  in- 
sists is  certainly  a  just  one,  and  it  applies  with  equal  force  in  all  the  arts.  It  is 
a  principle  that  he,  more  than  any  other  of  our  artists,  has  understood  and  ex- 
emplified. Through  his  early  comprehension  of  it  he  avoided  many  attractive 
art-heresies  that  so  vitiate  the  taste  as  to  make  it  impossible  to  feel  the  ele- 
vating, reposeful  influences  of  the  higher  art  exemplified  in  the  Elgin  marbles, 
the  painting  of  Titian,  the  music  of  Beethoven,  and  the  poetry  of  Shakespeare. 
All  these  efforts  of  genius  are,  in  Page's  estimation,  on  the  same  plane,  and 
are  the  very  highest  expressions  of  art.  He  has  little  sympathy  with  that 
period  of  Greek  sculpture  which  produced  such  works  as  the  '  Fighting  Gladi- 
ator,' or  with  such  poetry  as  Byron  wrote.  Every  one  who  knows  him  at  all 
knows  his  admiration  for  Shakespeare  ;  but  only  those  who  have  heard  him 
read  the  works  of  the  great  master  in  his  studio  know  how  close  and  sympa- 
thetic a  student  he  has  been.  His  reading  is  perfectly  easy  and  simple,  with- 
out the  least  strain  after  dramatic  effect,  but  it  opens  up  to  the  hearer  an  infin- 
ity of  new  meanings,  of  remoter  and  subtiler  beauties,  which  come  to  him  as  a 
revelation,  and  make  him  feel  that  he  has  gone  beyond  the  outward  expression 
into  the  very  soul  of  the  poet.  I  have  seen  Page  going  about  his  work  in 
studio-dress,  repeating,  half  unconsciously,  one  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets,  or 
Keats's  '  Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn,'  with  such  force  and  vividness  as  made  me 
believe  for  the  moment  that  it  was  au  unconscious  expression  of  himself. 
This,  indeed,  is  the  secret  of  his  admirable  reading — for  reading  in  the  com- 
mon sense  it  is  not  at  all :  he  is  simply  using  another's  words  to  express  what 
he  himself  feels.  It  was  his  own  deficiency  in  language,  as  he  has  told  me,  that 
gave  him  an  early  and  abiding  love  of  poetry.  Since  words  come  to  him  with 
an  effort,  he  uses  them  discriminatingly,  and  to  express  exactly  the  thing  he 
has  in  mind.  I  doubt  if  Lowell  could  read  his  own  poetry  with  half  the  effec- 
tiveness that  Page  renders  it;  and  I  doubt  also  if  he  has  nearly  so  high  an 
appreciation  of  it.      Certainly  no  poet  ever  had  a  better  friend  than  Lowell 


WILLI  A  .!/    PA  (IE.  [g3 

has  in  Page.  The  painter  has  brought  many  people  to  see  the  great  beauty  of 
this  poet's  verse,  and  I  myself  am  under  obligations  to  him  for  having  opened 
to  me  this  great  mine  of  poetic  wealth. 

"  With  the  single  exception  of  George  Inness,  I  know  of  no  man  in  whom 
the  religious  sentiment  is  so  strong  as  in  Page,  or  who  has  so  vivid  and  logical 
an  apprehension  of  spiritual  things.  His  religion  has  not  been  a  garment 
worn  loosely,  but  a  companion  that  has  gone  hand-in-hand  with  his  art,  the 
one  helping  the  other.  It  has  been,  too,  the  informing  principle  of  his  every- 
day life.  So  essentially  is  it  the  moving  principle  of  his  nature  that  it  has 
taken  on  no  formal  method  of  expression.  He  recognizes  the  great  axiom  that 
all  visible  results  must  have  an  adequate  cause,  and  never  reasons,  as  do  our 
modern  scientists,  who  proceed  without  regard  to  it,  and  consequently  run  into 
all  manner  of  vagaries.  The  last  time  I  talked  with  him — he  was  then  in  ill 
health — he  lamented  his  inability  at  times  to  grasp  the  remoter  spiritual 
truths,  the  apprehension  of  which  had  been  to  him  always  the  highest  source 
of  pleasure  and  the  greatest  incentive  to  action.  I  think  he  scarcely  ever  took 
into  account,  when  he  set  about  doing  a  thing,  any  of  the  merely  worldly  mo- 
tives which  weigh  so  much  with  most  men,  or  had  another  thought  than  to  do 
what  was  before  him  to  be  done  with  all  his  might,  and  with  the  best  faculties 
he  could  bring  to  bear  upon  it.  With  him  it  has  not  been  art  for  art's  sake, 
but  art  for  truth's  sake — truth  in  its  noblest  sense,  the  divine  principle.  No 
one  knows  better  than  he  how  any  trifling  with  art,  only  making  it  subserve 
base  purposes,  will  bring  the  fearful  penalties  of  a  seared  conscience  and 
debauched  imagination — a  price  too  high  to  be  paid  for  anything,  even  for 
the  whole  world.  If  occasionally  he  has  made  failures,  these  have  been  the 
results  simply  of  a  never-ceasing  search  for  light,  and  a  contimious  struggle 
for  higher  attainments.  Any  violation  of  Nature  for  what  is  called  '  artistic 
effect,'  anything  with  the  slightest  tincture  of  trickery,  is  to  him  rank  sacrilege. 
Fidelity  to  Nature  is,  in  his  view,  the  one  essential  principle  which  should 
never  be  forsaken ;  not  Nature  upon  the  merely  physical  plane,  but  Nature  as 
it  is  to  those  who  see,  in  all  its  outward  palpable  forms,  merely  the  physical 
manifestation  of  the  informing  principle.  His  advice  to  pupils  would  be  :  'Be 
faithful  to  Nature ;  do  what  you  see  in  a  spirit  of  self-abnegation  and  with  a 
reverential  hand.     After  a  while  it  wall  be  given  you  to  see,  beyond  these 


184  AMERICAN   PAINTERS. 

ever-changing  outer  forms,  new  beauties  and  the  infinite   variety  of  higher 
truth.' " 


The  future  of  art  in  this  country  is  just  now  a  subject  not  unpleasant  to 
contemplate.  Our  leading  young  artists  have  received  a  liberal  education  in  the 
best  academies  in  the  world ;  our  own  art-schools  are  multiplying  their  num- 
ber and  resources,  many  of  them  under  the  direction  of  these  well-equipped 
pupils ;  lay  appreciation  and  love  of  art  are  visibly  increasing ;  and  at  least  some 
earnest  men  and  women  are  hopefully  waiting  for  a  new  revelation  of  the 
beautiful  in  Nature.  Self-conceit,  and  the  indolence  proceeding  therefrom,  are 
smaller  than  formerly.  Americans  are  coming  to  talk  less  of  American  art, 
of  Munich  art,  of  French  art,  or  of  Greek  art,  and  to  think  more  of  art  itself 
— not  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority,  nor  art  that  imitates  Nature,  but  art 
that,  using  the  principles  on  which  Nature  works,  produces  creations  of  its 
own ;  while  criticism  itself,  properly  and  wholesomely  intolerant  of  imperfec- 
tion, is  nevertheless  becoming,  in  its  aims,  more  constructive  and  less  destruc- 
tive, standing  with  the  artist  where  he  stands,  and  recognizing  his  purposes 
as  well  as  his  processes  and  results.  The  outlook  is  to  some  extent  really 
promising ;  and,  if  the  love  of  Nature,  the  desire  for  knowledge,  and  the  manly 
persistence  in  toil,  which  characterize  the  most  cultured  of  our  painters,  shall 
continue,  the  leaven  will  be  enough  to  permeate  a  large  lump. 


THE     END. 


s 


B 


D     000  381  653     5 


%mmmm 


